Me, Myself and Dean
by littlegemini1993
Summary: For 3 years I was stuck with my big brother for companionship. Dad wasn't around much and Sam was in college, leaving me under the wing of Dean. Be warned though, I tend to get into trouble a lot. Through his guidance Dean helped me grow into the hunter I am today. Cover image from The Last of Us, since the characters look similar
1. The Little Runaway

_**Hi Folks! I plan to continue writing Chris's story through certain episodes of season one and further into the next season so don't panic. Just keep tuning in for future instalments.**_

_**I also plan to write stories about the Winchesters in the period of time when Sam left for college, told by Chris of course. This is the first one of several I have planned. **_

_**P.S I do not own Supernatural or it's characters apart from Chris, who I do own.**_

Memories of a Broken Kid.

The Little Runaway

I remember the night Sam left. I was ten years old and still naïve of the world despite my harsh upbringing. Dad sugar coated everything and Dean was overprotective as hell. I was lonely as a kid. I had no friends. I had an imaginary friend called Billy when I was eight but it turned out it was a creature that fed on children's souls or some crap like that. That's what Dean said anyway. The only real friend I had was in Sam. I doted on him and he even nick named me Shadow as I followed him everywhere. I suppose it was an act of kindness when he broke it to me about Dad and where him and Dean disappeared to all the time. He wanted me to know and not to be in the dark anymore. Dean and Dad were furious with Sam for him telling me everything. Dean later confessed to me that he only wanted to shield me from the danger that Dad dealt with. He also said he wanted me to be like a normal kid. At least for a while. From that point I never knew normality again.

2OO2 was just another year for me and my family. I had always assumed Dad just liked travelling. Boy was I stupid. Routine for me was hours sitting in the back of the Impala with Sam, then a few days in some crap hole somewhere then we were off again in the Impala. After Sam confessed everything and show me Dad's journal, I was forever asking questions. Did Vampires and Werewolves really exists? Was there something hiding under my bed when I was smaller? I obviously pissed Dad off with my constant bombardment of questions. He always barked at me to shut up and to stay put either in the Impala or back at the motel. There was no point in asking Dean. Yet with Sam he always tried to find an answer for me.

I can't quiet remember were we were. It think it was Arizona. Anyway. We were at this motel. We had been their for almost three weeks, which was an unusually long time. I didn't mind really. I amused myself by colouring and drawing in a small notepad with my crayons and playing a solo game of catch with my baseball. Sam found me sitting alone near the Impala one day.

"Hey Shadow," he smiled crouching on his haunches "Watcha doing?"

"Nothin much" I said tossing the ball between my small hands. Sam sat down beside me. He noticed my notepad and was flipping through it. His eyes full of glee.

"Is that Dean?" he inquired pointing to a picture in which was a stick like figure with a large head and green circles for eyes.

"Yup" I replied looking it over with a grin creeping on my face "I think it looks like him."

Sam then asked with a chuckle "Why does he have a big head?"

I looked at Sam with raised eyebrows "Because he does have a big head. Come on Sammy you mean to say you've never noticed?"

Sam just laughed and pulled my baseball cap over my eyes as we both stood up. I couldn't see anything. I started to laugh myself and I knew what Sam was up to.

"Marco" he said.

"Polo" I giggled in reply trying to search for him in the dark.

We carried on with our shenanigans until Dad barked at us to behave ourselves. It was only a two days after our game of Marco Polo that the laughter stopped.

The sun had just went down and I was scribbling away in my notepad when Sam walked in waving a letter in his hands. I looked up in curiosity along with Dean who was busying with research. Sam looked excited but with a mixture of fear and dread.

"What's that?" I asked brightly putting down my crayons.

"Yeah Sam?" Dean questioned snatching it from Sam's hand.

"Dude?" said Sam in annoyance making a grab for it "Give it back."

Dean wasn't listening. He was reading the letter, his face fell then he frowned. He still kept the letter from Sam. Whatever the letter said, Dean was pissed.

"When did you apply for Stanford?" he hissed angrily.

Sam gulped but was ready to stand his ground. Then Dad entered the room. He looked at us and the letter in Dean's hand.

"What's this?" he asked taking it from Dean, after he read the first few lines his face had hardened and he glowered at Sam.

"Your not going" he stated firmly, his dark eyes light with a burning anger.

"I am Dad" replied Sam calmly "I'm going to Stanford."

Then it kicked off. Dad started yelling at Sam while Dean just stood there with his arms folded. I swear I saw a hint of jealously in his eyes at that one brief moment. Then Sam gained his courage and started answering back in an equally pissed off tone. Dad looked like he was ready to sock him in the face. I was scared of Dad when he got mad and at the heat of the argument I scurried over to Sam.

"Chrissie stay back" growled Dad to which Dean came and held me back in case it got violent.

Sam gave me a small sad smile and turned on his heels grabbing his bags as he headed for the door.

"You walk out that door," Dad warned him "Don't you ever come back!"

Sam looked at me and Dean and then slammed the door behind him. I wretched myself away from Dean and avoided Dad as I dived outside and raced towards Sam as he was passing by the parking lot.

"Sammy!" I cried out "Sammy don't go!"

Sam turned, tears falling down his face "Go back Chrissie."

"No!" I replied defiantly going after him again but then I was caught in Dean's arms. Sam turned back and continued walking along the street.

I struggled and thrashed about howling for Sam as Dean brought me back inside. I glared at Dad with tears streaming down my face. Dad then left with a guilt ridden expression on his face. I knew where he was going. I was off to get wasted. That made me even more angry and upset. Why did he fight with Sam all the time? Why wasn't he letting Sam go to College? Why couldn't he be more normal?

I continued to fight with Dean as he planted me back on the ground. He grabbed my shoulders to try and calm me down. He looked at me sadly but I was pissed at him.

"Why didn't you stop him!" I sobbed punching him repeatedly "I want Sam!"

"Quit hitting me kiddo I'm on your side" he said taking hold of my wrists.

"No your not!" I wept avoiding eye contact "You always take Dad's side. I hate him!"

Dean looked at me square in the eye "No you don't."

Tears still dripped down my cheeks and I finally managed to wriggle away from Dean.

"I hate you!" I spat tearfully to which Dean was taken aback and a forlorn look washed over his face.

When I look back on that moment it is something I was I could erase completely. I knew when I uttered those words, Dean's heart broke.

I had to get away from them that night. So I packed my rucksack which in contrast with my tiny frame at the time-I was only ten remember-looked rather funny. I tied the laces of my high top sneakers and put on my trusty baseball cap I got from Bobby Singer-a family friend-three years previous, I called it my lucky cap though good luck was hard to come by in my family. I left a note saying _Gone to find Sam, Chris__, _then I sneaked out the door being careful to wake a sleeping Dean. Then with my lucky cap, I ran off into the night.

Walking down a dark road at night was frightening. I was nervous but I was tougher than the average ten year old. I had a flashlight and I was making my way soundly without a care. I was going to find a bus station and from there I was going to Stanford. Despite my large rucksack it was not as heavy as it appeared. It contained all the possessions I owned. Two t-shirts; a yoyo; a baseball; my Pokemon cards; my notepad and crayons; a pair of jeans; three socks; my clean underwear; an Atlanta Braves shirt; and a book of Fairy Tales by the Grimm Brothers. I also stole thirty dollars from Dean in order to get food and travel, it was nestled in my rucksack in an old wallet I found in a dumpster. I also started singing to myself as I toddled along the highway.

"_I wanna be the very best. Like no one ever was," _I sang waving my flashlight about as if it was a lightsaber, "_To catch them is my real test. To train them is my cause!"_

My mood was being lifted and I started skipping and brandishing my "Lightsaber" as I continued to sing to the moon.

"_I will travel across the land. Searching far and wide! Each Pokemon to understand. The power that's inside"_

I had not noticed that one single car had slowed down and was following me.

"_Pokemon! Gotta catch 'em all!"_

Suddenly the car beeped its horn startling me and flashed it's headlights almost blinding me that I almost dropped my flashlight. I panicked. Was it the Impala? I checked. It wasn't. I was an old rust bucket of a car. A man with a plaid shirt and glasses was in the driving seat. He rolled down the window as I approached the car cautiously. He smiled at me sweetly.

"Hi there" he said turning off the engine "What's a little girl like you doing out on the highway at this time of night?"

"I'm going to find my big brother" I replied clutching the flashlight nervously.

"Oh," said the man "And where is he?"

"He's heading for Stanford in California," I answered "I was heading for a bus station. Is there one near here?"

"Not for miles" said the man "Sorry."

"It's cool" I said moving away from the car carefully "I'll find a way."

The man was creepy and Dean had always warned me about strangers, as brothers do, but this guy was persistent.

"I can drive you to the bus station. Or Stanford for that matter." he offered with a glint in his brown eyes.

"Like I said Mister" I said "I can find my own way there."

His eyes hardened and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He smiled again but sourly.

"Get in the car kid" he snarled diving out and lunging towards me.

I yelped and attempted to run for it but he caught my rucksack with one hand and threw it inside his car whilst holding me by the scruff of the neck with the other. He struck me across the face and pressed me against the hood, clamping his sweaty hand over my mouth to muffle my screams.

"You're a pretty little girl" he whispered sickly.

As started touching me inappropriately I was relieved to hear a familiar sound. It was the sound of the Impala tearing down the highway. It skidded to a halt and the pervert froze in blind panic. Suddenly Dad and Dean emerged from the car in an almighty fury.

"Get your hands off my little girl you sick bastard!" roared Dad charging over then punched him in the face then tackling him to the ground, and repeating the process whilst screaming at him.

Dean dashed over to me and lifted me up into a tight embrace. He was shaking just as bad as I was but I knew I was safe. I began to cry, my arms around Dean's neck. He carried me back to the Impala and placed me gently down in the back seat to which he joined me.

"Honey look at me" he said holding my face in his hands "Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head tearfully forgetting the bruises on my face and upper arms. Dean noticed however.

"That son of a bitch!" he growled through gritted teeth, his eyes welling with tears.

"I'm sorry Dean" I whimpered clinging to him "I don't hate you."

"I know" he said smiling down at me, wiping my tears away with his thumb.

"I just wanted to find Sammy" I snivelled "I didn't mean to run away."

"I know honey" he said hushing me "I know."

Dad suddenly reappeared with my rucksack and placed it beside me. Dean hastily wiped away his own tears as Dad sat beside us in the back seat.

Dad hugged me close "Don't ever run away like that again. You gave me and your brother such a scare."

"I'm sorry Daddy" I whispered as he rocked me back and forth ."I'm sorry."

Dad then motion for Dean to take me again to he could slip back into the driving seat and take us back to the motel. Back to safety. Dad kept a close eye on me in the rear view mirror as the Impala drove away. I was exhausted with emotion and I remember drifting in and out of sleep as we got back to the motel.

"We better call Sam" said Dean as he carried me back into the motel room. Dad was quiet but he nodded. I was then passed to Dad who sat me down on the bed while Dean called Sam on his cell phone updating the current situation. Then the phone was handed to me.

"Sammy" I said hoarsely smiling.

"_Hey kiddo are you okay? What happened?_" Sam said on the other end of the phone, he sounded relieved to hear my voice.

"It was my fault Sammy, I ran away from Dad and Dean" I said.

Sam replied "_I know. Dean called_ _me. I'm just glad that your safe._"

Dean then took the phone back and they said their goodbyes. Sam promised he'd keep in touch whenever he could. It put my mind at ease know that he wasn't going to forget us. Maybe one day he would come back. But in the meantime it was just me, Dean and Dad.

It was nearly daybreak when I finally crawled into bed. Then I felt movement next to me and I turned over to see Dean.

"It's just you, me and Dad now kid" he whispered ruffling my hair, "Think you can handle it."

I giggled sleepily as I cuddled into Dean "Were family so I guess I'm gonna have to."

"Yeah" said Dean resting his chin on the top of my head "I love you so much Chris."

"I love you to Dean" I mumbled as I my eyes closed.

I knew at that point that Dean wasn't gonna let me out of his sight. If anything messed with me. They'd have to get pasted Dean first.

_**That's my first story looking back on Chris's childhood and the next one is going to recall Chris's first encounter with vampires. Hope you enjoyed part one and make sure you review as they help me a great deal. I also welcome ideas. Thanks guys.**_


	2. Angel's Are Watching Over You

_**This story idea was last minute as I was sitting alone in a free period at school. I know I said I was doing a vampire story but I thought it would be best establish the story better before I get to that stage. This one is after the events of Chris's attack whilst trying to run away and her mourning for Sam. Dean then makes her a promise.**_

_**P.S I do not own Supernatural or it's characters apart from Chris, who I do own.**_

Angel's Are Watching Over You

I couldn't sleep. Not after that creep attacked me. I tried in vain because I wanted to put Dean's mind at rest. I hated it when he got worried because he fussed which would eventually bug the hell outta me. Ever since I was little, if I was scared or upset I would go into clingy mode. I was like a freakin koala bear when I was having one of those moments. It was no surprise that I was like that then after my attack. I still had the stranger lingering in my memories. It then dawned on me. What would have happened if Dad and Dean hadn't shown up in the Impala. Makes me sick just remembering it.

Dad was visiting Bobby the night after my attack. I begged him to stay as I was still anxious and insecure. I didn't want him to leave me regardless to the fright I gave him when I pulled a Houdini.

"I've gotta sweetheart," he said softly putting both hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes, "Uncle Bobby has information bot a case. I have to go. You understand me."

"Yes sir" I replied sadly, my head drooping.

Dad lifted my chin up and kissing me on the nose "I'll be back soon. Besides Dean will keep an eye out for trouble."

Oh the joy! Yet at the time it was the next best thing I had for protection. Not like I need it now. But I was a squirt then, I never held a weapon before so how the hell would I be able to defend myself. I hated feeling vulnerable all the same though.

I gazed forlornly as Dad went out the door then I glanced at Dean who was scanning through research. He wasn't paying attention, he just didn't want to be sitting there like the dork he was whilst me and Dad had our mushy moment. Or chick flick moment as Dean would put it. He put down the papers he was reading and glanced over to me.

"You cool kiddo?" he asked me with a smile and a thumbs up.

"I guess so," I said in a small voice not returning his gaze as I turned away, "I'm gonna shower now."

I grabbed my Pokemon nightdress from under my pillow and plodded into the bathroom.

I pull my t-shirt over my head and I wriggled out of my jeans. I stood their in my underwear and examined my bruised arms from were the man grabbed me. I was also developing a shiner from were he hit me across the face and a small bump on the back of my head from were I stuck my head on the hood of the perv's car. I kept getting headaches and I thought having a shower would help. The warm water did soothe me but I was still hurting. Not on the outside. That pain was nothing compared to the aching I had inside. I started blaming Sam to my horror. If he hadn't walked out on us, I wouldn't have went after him which might have saved me from being attacked. I stood under the shower downpour for nearly twenty minutes, I was then aware of someone knocking on the door.

"Y'all right in there Chrissie?" I heard Dean's voice.

"Yeah," I answered turning the shower off, "I'm comin out now anyways."

I towelled myself off and yanked the Pikachu nightdress over my head. My hair dripping wet and I dry it with the towel as best I could. It was still damp as I threw the towel down. I opened the door and peeked out to see Dean waiting outside. He crouched down to my level.

"Bad hair day" he chuckled ruffling my hair.

"Shut up" I said trying not to smile.

"I'll dry your hair if you want," he said kindly "Just don't shut me out. Don't be like me."

"Fine" I said pouting with folded arms as Dean plugged in the small hairdryer.

"Hop up then squirt" he said patting the bed with one hand whilst the other held the hairdryer.

"I ain't a squirt" I grumbled as I sat between his legs.

I heard the click of the hairdryer and my hair was suddenly flapping about wildly. I winced as Dean's hand grazed the bump on my head as he fluffed my hair.

"Sorry" he said over the blast of the hairdryer.

"It's cool," I replied, "It ain't hurting anyways."

When my hair was dry, I gave Dean my hairbrush. It was something Sam used to do. Dean would dry my hair and Sam would brush it. Still Sam was gone. It was Dean's job now.

The hairbrush glided through my wavy hair and it tickled my scalp to which I let out a small smile. I heard a chuckle.

"I saw that," smirked Dean, "You smiled."

"How can ya tell when it's the back of my head your staring at?" I asked my grin widening to which Dean laughed again.

"Do ya think Sammy will come back?" I asked then wishing I didn't.

Dean was silent and sighed putting down the hairbrush. I turned around to face him.

"I dunno kiddo," he said, "Your heard Dad."

"Yeah but he didn't mean it when he said to not come back," I said naively, "He was kidding right."

Dean face had softened "I don't think he was. You saw how pissed he was."

My face fell "But why? Why would he say that to our Sammy?"

"I dunno Chrissie," said Dean.

My bottom lip trembled and I crawled away from Dean and burrowed under the covers. I curled in a tight ball and glowered at the wall. I could feel my face crumpling and tears stinging in my eyes.

"I want Sammy" I mumbled my voice almost breaking.

I was then aware of being scooped up in a pair of strong arms. My brother starting cradling me like some infant kid. It's kinda embarrassing when I look back now. I remember bursting into tears at that point.

"W-W-Why would he l-l-eave m-m-me," I sobbed clinging onto Dean for comfort, "Why w-w-would he leave without h-his shadow."

That was Sam's nickname for me when I was younger. I'd follow him everywhere. Hence the name shadow. Dean held me close and kissed the top of my head, his arms wrapped around me tightly. I glanced up at him to see something that startled me slightly. He was crying too. Hell that was rare to see. I'd seen Sam cry before, and I once heard Dad, but never Dean. I got my stubbornness from Dean and I always avoided waterworks but that failed on occasion. This was one of those occasions.

Dean was a hero in my eyes. Nothin bothered him and he never complained about his responsibilities towards our family. He basically raised me and Sam and I didn't just regard him as my big brother. He was also a friend and a kinda father figure. He was always fiercely protective over me and Sam and he would even sacrifice himself for us. Now that Sam was gone. I was his lone responsibility. Sam's departure didn't just leave me alone, it left Dean alone.

"I'm here Chrissie," he said hushing me, tears spilling from his green eyes, "I'll never leave you. Never."

"You promise" I said gulping as he wiped away my tears with his thumb.

"I promise" he said.

He then tucked me under the covers and kissed me on the forehead.

"Angle's are watching over you" I heard him whisper as I drifted off to sleep.

_**Hope you enjoyed this and I hope you review and stay tuned for more. Thanks.**_


	3. Grounded

_**Sorry for the slow process but school is a bitch :P. I plan more father/daughter moments and wee sister and big bro moments too. Again I do not own Supernatural or its characters apart for Chris. Ideas are welcomed.**_

**Chris's wayward baseball leads to destruction and to another heart to heart moment with her big bro.**

Grounded

I was bored. Dad was out again and Dean was in the motel room. I just sat outside with my back against the dumpster and tossed my baseball between my hands. I sighed and rested my head against the cool metal of the dumpster. It was hot and the heat was making sweat gather on my forehead. I tried singing Pokemon but I wasn't in the mood, I wish I went with Dad, Dean was busy researching. Again. I hadn't heard from Sam in nearly four weeks and I was still waiting for him to come back. I didn't slug around anymore as my moping got on Dad's nerves and I chose to bottle up my misery in order to get on his good side and in a way it helped.

My God I was so bored. I was then getting pissed at everything around me. The sun. The chirping of a distant bird. Even my baseball. I threw it away furiously.

_SMASH!_

Oh shit! My stomach fell as I stood up and gazed over in the direction I threw the ball, hand over my mouth. The ball had smashed a window. That wasn't the worst part. It wasn't an ordinary window. It was one of the window of the Impala. I scrabbled over in a panic.

"Aw crap" I said snatching the ball from the back seat "I'm so dead."

The motel room door swung open and there standing with a look of wrath was Dean. My eyes widened.

"AHHHHHH!" I screamed as I fled from the car with Dean charging after me at lighting speed.

I skidded round the corner and collided with several trash cans. I looked up to see Dean looming over me. I grinned sheepishly up at him, my baseball cap at a squint angle. Okay this was the part when he murdered me. Instead he grabbed me and carried me under his arm like a football. I hung my head shamefully as I was lead back to the shattered window of the Impala. I was planted back down with a thump.

"What the hell Chris!" demanded Dean angrily pointing at the window.

"It was an accident" I pleaded "I didn't mean to."

"Sure you didn't" he replied.

"What are you saying?" I said defensively folding my arms "That I meant to break your stupid window. Well I didn't."

Dean glared at me "Don't lie to me Chris I know your pissed at Sam for not calling. But hell don't take it out on me and Dad."

"You talk crap Dean" I said standing my ground "Sam ain't here no more so he can do what the hell he wants."

"Watch your mouth young lady!" warned Dean.

"Screw you!" I spat "You're not the boss of me!"

Dean then grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me back inside "When Dad ain't around. I am."

He was right on the money there. I was causing more trouble than normal, rebellion released my inner anger. I was recently suspended school because I kept picking fights with other kids. They kept picking on me and I needed to defend myself one way or another. Punching them in the face was the best way to win, let's just say that having Dean as a role model has it's down sight with the amount of fights he has got himself into over the years.

He came down to my level "You're attitude stinks kid."

I scowled at him "Shut up!"

He then grabbed my arms angrily "That's exactly what I'm talkin about! You're grounded!"

I curled my hands into small fists and I continued to stare daggers at him.

I cried out in outrage and distress "Everybody hates me!"

I then wretched myself away from Dean and marched into the bathroom and slammed to door. Once I locked the door I sat with my back against it. Tears were welling in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I hated crying, I felt stupid and weak whenever I did. I gritted my teeth and wrapped my arms around my knees. Everybody was treating me different nowadays. It was like I got in the way of everything. I felt so alone.

There was a gentle knock on the door "Chrissie?"

I buried my head in my arms and growled a reply "Get lost!"

Somehow Dean didn't seem as pissed now "I'm sorry I yelled at you kiddo."

I snivelled "No you ain't."

He sighed "I am. I know the past few weeks have been tough on you."

I lifted my head "Ya think."

"Look it ain't my fault Sammy hasn't called.."

I cut him off "He has though."

Dean sounded surprised "What?"

I rolled my eyes "I heard you and Dad arguing. He did call but Dad told him never to call again and he hasn't. You guys thought I was asleep but I heard every single part of it."

"You heard?"

"Yes"

"You shouldn't have."

"Why?"

"Because I know how close you and Sammy are."

"_Were_. He ain't here no more. You and Dad are all that I have now."

I then got up and unlocked the door and peeked round saw Dean looking down at me. He gave me a sad smile. I scuffed my feet and glanced up at him with puppy dog eyes underneath the shadow of my baseball cap.

"Sorry I busted the car window"

"It's cool kiddo it was an accident" he said hugging me.

He chuckled and pulled my cap over my eyes "You're still grounded though."

I yanked the hat back up and muttered "You suck."

This was going to be my life now. Just me, Dad and Dean. Travelling around the States as custom. Little did I know what life had in store for me. Life was going to get more tough and much more dangerous.


	4. There's Something Wrong with Ruthie 1

_**School is being a real pain in my arse recently hence the slow progress. I apologise. Anyway I would like to thank those who have given me reviews so far but I would like more. I really appreciate it. FYI I'm not all knowledgeable about the American school system and this school is fictional, just to make it easy for myself. Anyway enjoy Part One of Three. Once again the only character I own is Chris.**_

**Chris is sent to school were she is meets another little girl, the mysterious Ruthie. But is Ruthie all she seems?**

Kid's Will Be Kids (Part 1)

"But Dad!" I whined in protest from the back seat of the car "I don't wanna go to school!"

"It's only for a week Chrissie," insisted Dad looking over his shoulder at me, "Just suck it up and behave yourself."

I pouted "Yes sir"

Dad gave me a smile and tugged at my baseball cap "That's my girl."

I sighed and crawled out the car and threw my rucksack over my shoulders. I managed to tweak a smile back but I still looked miserable none the less.

"Dean will pick you up at 3. Wait for him here" instructed Dad.

"Yes sir" I droned.

I watched Dad drive away and scowled. I hated school. It wasn't the lessons that bothered me. It was the kids and the teachers. The kids treated me like some kind of freak and the teachers just picked on me. I looked towards the school building and let out a moan as the bell went. Fourth Grade here I come.

I sat in the office when the Principle showed up. He was dressed in some god awful monkey suit and he was reseeding at the hairline and he was ages with Dad by the look of it.

"Ah you must be Christina, I'm Principle Anderson" he beamed at me shaking my hand, "Welcome to Cransdale Elementary School."

I nodded and gave my best attempt at manners "Nice to be here. Even if it is for a week."

Principle Anderson smiled "Yes I'm aware of your situation and that you are most home schooled but we can ensure that you will get the best education while you are here."

Oh boy I thought to myself sarcastically as me and Principle Anderson walked down the locker corridor.

I was then led into a classroom and there was the awkward silence as all eyes fell on me. I must I have been like E.T landing in the middle of register to them. I felt and looked the total outcast. I was wearing my long sleeved white shirt underneath my hooded short sleeved shirt and I noticed I had a small tear on the knee of my jeans. My sneakers were dirty and scuffed and my bag was old and battered looking. Not to mention my baseball cap. I wasn't like normal kids. That much I knew.

"Check out the new kid" whispered one curly haired black girl.

"What a dork" sniggered another.

"Fourth Grade this is Christina Winchester and she will be in this class for a week before she has to leave again" announced Principle Anderson.

"Is she a gypsy or somethin'" said some loudmouth punk with a buzz cut.

"Travis be quiet" barked my new teacher Mrs Malone.

Travis slouched back at his desk and I shot him daggers. I wasn't the piece of trailer trash in this classroom. He smirked at me. Great I had just met my new bully. One in a long line. I could take him though. He was small fry compared to some of the others I've dealt with.

I sat at the desk facing the window and I glance around to see the girl next to me grinning at me. I raised my eyebrows.

"What?" I said in a hissed whisper.

"My name's Ruthie," she said her dark eyes shining, "Mrs Malone says I've to show you around."

"Thanks but no thanks," I replied turning away "I don't need help."

I was then warned about wearing hats in class and was ordered to remove my baseball cap. I grunted and shoved it under my desk. I had only been in the class five minutes and I was already getting picked on. Typical I thought.

As Mrs Malone bleated on, scarring the blackboard with chalk as she went, I was aware of Ruthie watching me. I frowned and tried to concentrate. I had to keep a low profile and not to draw too much attention to myself. I'd get in trouble otherwise, from the teachers and Dad. Ruthie pasted me a note, carefully out of site of Mrs Malone. It said:

_This is boring. Can't wait for recess _

I smirked and nodded at Ruthie. Maybe she wasn't that bad after all. I felt kinda bad for snapping at her earlier. Her offer didn't sound so bad now. If I was left alone I'd be prone to cause trouble. By means of starting fights. Mostly against bullies. In defence against myself and others. I pasted her my own note:

_Me too. This lesson stinks._

Ruthie smiled and we then continued with the lesson. I'm academic when I want to be but most of the times I feel like there are more important things in life. Saving people from chaos and death appeared more interesting and life fulfilling than learning about the Alamo and fractions. I was a hunter. In training that is but my life was set. I didn't need a college degree. There was no point. Still Sam thought otherwise.

The class erupted with glee as the bell sounded for recess and we all filed out into the playground. I looked around to see kids my age playing and laughing with friends. I envied them in some way. I wanted to be like them so bad but I knew that would never be the case. So I sat alone near the oak tree that overlooked the playground. Ruthie then appeared suddenly before me. "Travis is picking on Mickey again," she pointed out, I looked and noticed the bespectacled Mickey being shoved by white trash Travis. She added with a smirk "You should teach him a lesson."I sighed and shook my head "Nah. I don't wanna get in trouble for fighting again."Ruthie pouted then whispered "I dare you."I was taken aback. Ruthie was dressed like Little Bo-Peep and she hardly looked like the type to stir things. Her dark plaits dangled over her shoulders and her eyes grew hard."Unless you're chicken" she added with a hiss."I ain't chicken," I said in outrage standing up and marching over to the bully, "You watch."Turns out Travis was stronger than I thought and I ended up receiving a shiner. Mickey smiled at me in sympathy before Travis yanked him away. I slugged back to Ruthie with my pride slightly wounded. Ruthie was grinning."I don't know what you're smiling at?" I mumbled, "It's you're fault I have this shiner.""No it isn't" replied Ruthie sweetly "You got involved. What is your Dad going to think?"" Balls!" I groaned touching my bruised eye gently, "I'm is so much crap. I was told not to get into fights."Ruthie shrugged "Who cares what he thinks."I was about to reply when the bell sounded for the end of recess. I thought I was weird but there was something about Ruthie that appeared weirder. She had this spark in her eye and she would always be there whenever I turned around. Yup. Ruthie was one freaky kid. Hell I should stay away from her I thought as Mrs Malone began our English lesson. We were told to write a report on our family and what they mean to us for homework. Great I thought to myself with mock joy as I slouched forward in my chair before Mrs Malone cautioned me again for wearing my baseball cap in class. The rest of the lesson was spent reading Charlotte's Web until we moved onto the science lesson. What a load of garbage. An hour was spent on talking about something called Photosynthesis. Personally I couldn't give a shit but I forced myself to listen. I prayed the day would speed ahead but lunchtime was approaching. I knew were I was heading then. The library. To hell with lunch, the school food was crap but it was still nothing compared to the shit they gave you in hospital. I would just find myself a corner and just wait until lunch was over. Hopefully Ruthie wouldn't find me. I managed to find myself a quiet spot in the back of the non fiction section. I hid there for maybe about half an hour before I pulled out my English textbook and scrawled "My Family and Me by Chris Winchester" and I paused for a second. I thought I heard a noise. It sounded like a giggle. A haunting one. I screwed my eyes shut and begged that it wasn't who I thought it was. I was right though. I snapped my eyes open to find Ruthie staring at me square in the eyes, her face up close to mine."Found you," she said in a hushed whisper, a creepy smile spreading across her face, "You can't hide from me.""No," I sighed with irritation clutching my textbook to my chest "I can't. Where the hell did you come from anyway.""I have my ways," she smiled sitting on her rear end and crossing her legs, "I think it's fun."I raised my eyebrows and started writing again. I could feel Ruthie's glare burning into me. I looked up in annoyance. She grinned."What!""Nothing""Stop staring at me then. It's creeping me out. Ain't you got better things to do than bug the hell outta me."Ruthie looked hurt "I'm sorry."I felt an ass then "Look I'm sorry but I just feel uneasy with all your staring."Ruthie let out a small laugh "That's just me though."I nodded and scribbled down my first paragraph which read:"My name is Christina Mary Winchester and I was born on May the 2nd 1991. Me and my big brother Sam share the same birthday in fact and my eleventh birthday is in two weeks. Sam said it was the best birthday present he ever got when I was born. He left for Stanford University last month. I now live with my Dad and my other brother Dean. I don't have a Mom. She died when I was a baby."

Ruthie stared at me in wide eyed curiosity "How did she die?"

I was startled and offended "It's none of you're businesses."

I then stood up and grabbed my bag-to be honest there was no point in me getting a locker-and I fled from the library.

I slammed the door of the toilet cubicle and put the lid down and sat on it with my feet curled up. I hated the fact that I never got the chance to know Mom and deep down I have always blamed myself for her death. Everybody was so happy before I came along and ruined everything. A single tear slid down my cheek. I hit the side of the cubicle with my fist in anger and more tears fell. Get a grip I said to myself. You're a Winchester. Winchester's don't cry. I sniffed hard and composed myself before I opened the door and stepped out about ten minutes later. I washed my face and when I looked up in the mirror I let out a yelp as the reflection showed Ruthie standing right behind me.

"Jesus!" I gasped "Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" she asked, her head cocked like a boxer puppy.

"The whole appearing and disappearing thing," I said "It's freaky!"

Ruthie just tittered and turned and walked out of the toilets. I stared after her. This was going to be a long week.

The rest of the day flew past after that and soon everybody was spilling out of the building, heading home. I scanned about until I caught sight of the Impala with Dean leaning on the hood. He noticed me and gave me a wave. I ran over to greet him.

"Did ya have a good day squirt?" he asked with a smile.

"No," I replied bluntly gazing up at him "It sucked ass."

"Fighting again?" he added taking note of my black eye, "What have we told you."

"It wasn't me. It was some asshole wailing on a nerd" I insisted "I got the way."

"Whatever," smirked Dean pulling my cap over my eyes "Get in the car."

I climbed into the front seat and just as we both buckled ourselves in we both jumped in fright. Ruthie was standing right in front of the Impala.

"Who the hell is that?" asked Dean looking at Ruthie then me, "You know her?"

"That's Ruthie" I stated simply.

"Why is she just staring at us?" he questioned.

"She does that. It's her thing" I said as Ruthie made her way to Dean's window. She tapped on it gently.

The window was rolled down and Ruthie gazed at Dean with her dark eyes. Dean shifted in the seat and clear his throat.

"This must be you're brother" said Ruthie, her eyes still on Dean.

"Yeah" I said nervously.

She then looked at me again "Goodbye Chris. Until tomorrow."

I gulped and me and Dean exchanged awkward glances "Yeah. See ya tomorrow."

When we pulled out of the school I could still feel Ruthie's presence. Hell she scared me. There was something definitely wrong with Ruthie.

_**Ohhhhh what do you guys think of Ruthie. What do you think is wrong with her? Tune in for Part Two for more creepy staring Ruthie and a possible explanation of her behaviour. Please Review this story!**_


	5. There's Something Wrong with Ruthie 2

_**Can you folks guess at what might be going on with Ruthie. Is she just nuts or is it something else? Please excuse me for my slow progress as I am currently sitting Prelim exams and my laptop is playing the goat. **_

"Christina Mary Winchester!," my father barked cupping my jaw with one hand and titling my face so he could view my black eye, "What is that!"

I gulped and trembled under his anger "Uh…a shiner?"

My Dad shook his head in disappointment "I can see that. What have I told you about fighting. You know how I feel about that."

I hung my head in shame, there was no point in defending myself as I would only get myself into more trouble. I slumped onto the lumpy bed, making the bed springs creek. _It was Ruthie's idea _I told myself. It was true, she told me to approach Travis and for some reason, I did, as if there was some weird force making me do so. Man was she creepy, I was sure she was stalking me. I could still feel her presence in the room. My vision went dark as my baseball cap was pulled over my eyes, I yanked it back up to catch the culprit. It was Dean, grinning like a goofball. I scowled at him, I was in a bad mood.

"Go away!" I grumbled crawling away from him only to be pulled back by the ankle.

"What's up with you?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothin."

"Chris"

"I said nothin. So just leave me alone."

I slid of the bed and stormed into the bathroom. I knew I'd get a scolding later for my bad attitude. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. It was weird and I just had the urge to hit something or do something bad. I splashed cold water on my face and examined my black eye. It wasn't so bad, just a small purple bruise as if I had made a mistake with eye shadow and smudged it. Then I recoiled in sudden fright as I was staring at myself in the mirror. Only it wasn't me. It was Ruthie. She gave a menacing and disturbing titter that sent a chilling shiver down my spinal cord. I jumped again when I heard a fist banging on the bathroom door.

It was Dad "Chris move your ass. We're going out."

I gulped and gazed at my reflection again. It was normal. Ruthie was gone. It was like something in a physiological horror movie. Dad thumped on the door again.

"Yes sir," I replied with a nervous squeak "Comin."

I stared at my cheeseburger dumbly, my mind wondering. I couldn't stop thinking about Ruthie. In fact I couldn't stop seeing Ruthie. She was everywhere. I could see her. I could hear her. There was no escape. Then I knew. I was going bonkers. My gormless expression and timid behaviour was clearly pissing Dad off.

"What the hell is wrong with you?," he snapped, giving me a nudge from under the table, "Get a goddamn grip Chris."

I swallowed. I gave him my apologetic puppy dog eyes and I slouched back into the diner booth chair. My appetite was gone.

Voice whispered into my ear _"Aw poor baby" _

I bowed my head, Dean was shooting me the concerned big brother look. I glanced up at him briefly before I continued to stare at my balled up fists. I pinched myself harshly. I was acting like I was afraid of my own shadow. That wasn't me, nothing scared me. Apart from Ruthie. She scared the living bejesus outta me. I was glad when we went back to the motel, with the salt lines across the doors and windows, I felt safe.

"I'm calling it a night" I stated wrapping the covers of the bed around me, not caring that I was still fully dressed.

Dad frowned, throwing down the car keys "It's only six thirty."

I popped my head out from under the sheets "I know."

**2 Days Later**

I was going insane. Honestly. I was getting more and more freaked out as the week continued. Ruthie's behaviour was getting stranger too. She would just randomly start laughing at me in the middle of class but the weird part was that nobody seemed to notice. Everywhere I went within the school building, all eyes were on me. I'd walk into class and everybody would stop and stare. I was trying so hard to hold it together yet I could feel my sanity begin to fray at the seems. School had finished for another day, much to my relief, and I scuttled towards the Impala in the school gates, Dean was leaning casually against the hood, he noticed me and signalled me to move my ass. I turned my head to see Ruthie waving and giggling at me. I gasped and broke into a quick jog, my heart pounding. Dean frowned as I literally dived into the passenger seat, he then noticed that Ruthie was standing before him. He jumped and glanced at me and back at Ruthie. It seemed he had figured out what was causing my odd behaviour the past three days. The window was rolled down therefore I managed to catch the conversation.

"Hey, Ruthie ain't it?" he started with a growing expression that a guard dog gets when somebody pisses them off.

"Yes. What seems to be the problem?" asked Ruthie sweetly with a hard glint in her dark eyes.

"Well the problem seems to be that your giving my little sister grief. I'm telling you and I'm telling you now, you stop this or you'll have to answer to me. Got it."

Ruthie blinked, with a fake innocent expression "I don't understand."

"Oh I think you do," snarled Dean looming over her, "You've been getting her into trouble. Taunting her about our family. Following her."

Ruthie blinked again and smiled "I understand. I will no longer continue with my behaviour."

Dean nodded "Alright."

Dean turned just as Ruthie shot me a narrow eyed death glare. I gulped and slid half way down the car seat. This was not over. Things had just gotten worse. I was pissed off and I stated so when Dean climbed into the car.

"I can take care of myself!" I scowled, my arms crossed, "I ain't a baby."

"Sure you can Chrissie," said Dean starting the engine, "You getting bog washed by other kids in your grade. Oh yeah that's really taking care of yourself."

I grimaced at the incident that had only happened the previous day. There was no other way to explain why I was soaking wet. That also resulted in me receiving another lecture from Dad later on that day.

_I was alone in the girl's restroom. Everything was still but I could feel the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on edge. I shivered violently as I could sense something was wrong. She had caught me._

"_You can't out smart me Christina," echoed Ruthie's voice, she then appeared from nowhere, "Peek a boo!"_

_I tried to make a break for it but I was held back by two other kids. I wriggled but it was in vain. Why was she doing this? Why was she constantly inside my head and dreams? Why was I her chosen victim? I knew one thing. She was not human. Her eyes just told me that. I don't know how but they just did. Her fingers seized my chin and she glared deeply into my eyes. My eyes screwed up as pain pulsed throughout my body, my legs buckled but Ruthie's minions kept me upright. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Yet every fibre inside me refused to let Ruthie win. _

"_I'm stronger than you think," I growled, my eyes burning with rage, "Bitch."_

_Ruthie smirked and I was suddenly dragged into an empty cubicle. Aw hell no I thought. My head was pushed into the toilet. I waited for the thunderous sound of the flush, which seemed forever. The water flew at my face. Slapping and soaking me. I gagged and spluttered. Dammit Ruthie had found my weakness. My phobia of water. How did she know? She was loving it all the same. My hair was like dripping seaweed and my red t-shirt clung onto my skin. Ruthie's minions then pulled me back out of the cubicle and shoved me against the wall. She lunged at me and before I knew it was being half strangled by a kid the same age as me. Then she changed. Well her eyes anyway. They rolled back to reveal a haunting milky white colour. My own eyes bulged, what the hell was she? The sign of a demon is black eyes. Ruthie's was white. Was she still a demon then? _

_She tittered and released her grip from my throat. I gasped for air and I found myself cowering before her. I must have looked pathetic. I felt pathetic._

_Ruthie leaned forward with her hands on her hips "Silly Goose."_

"Earth to Chris? Yo Chris you still in there?" came Dean's voice, snapping me out of my flashback.

My head jerked up as if I had woken from a bad dream. I glanced up at him from behind my baseball cap and nodded. I knew I'd be in for a talk tonight. A talk on finding out everything about the past few days. I couldn't lie. I've been told I'm a crap liar. I just hoped Dad would be involved with the talk. I can show my weak spots to Dean. I never dare to do so in front of Dad. If I was to be a good hunter, weaknesses and sensitivity would be my downfall. I didn't want that to be the case. I had to prove to Dad that I wasn't a little kid anymore. I needed his approval. I wanted to be a good and obedient soldier for him.

"Were gonna have a little talk tonight 'bot what's been going on at that school," Dean's voice continued, his eyes were on the road in front, "If there's something going on Chrissie, you have to tell us."

"_Us_!" I blurted out in a state of alarm, "Dad is gonna hear jack squat!"

"Why?"

"Cos. I'll let him down. It'll just be another burden."

"Chris what are you-"

"There's something wrong with Ruthie. Okay."

"What?"

"I think she's a demon."

"Serious"

"Yeah"

"How do you know. She might just be some little bitch winding you up."

"No. She's gotta be a demon."

Dean signed and pulled into the motel parking lot. Once the car stopped, he turned to face me. He didn't need to say anything. I knew for a fact that he didn't believe me. Since I could walk I've been renowned for my wild imagination. When I was around four and five years old, I claimed to be friends with an angel. There also the tale in which I claimed a cat said "hello" to me. This wasn't my imagination though. Ruthie was a demon and my own brother didn't believe me. I also didn't realise I had let my guard down and I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.

"You don't need to say it. I know what your thinking. Chrissie's on crack again. Stupid, crazy Chris!" I cried out with a broken waver in my voice before I fled from the car.

Dad wasn't in. Thank God. I swung the door open and dived inside slamming the door behind me. I was aware of Dean behind me. I didn't seem to notice or care for that matter. I collapsed onto the doughy bed sobbing. All my built up anguish erupted into a waterfall, in which the pillow bore the brunt. For once in my life I didn't feel ashamed of crying, which was weird. I was telling the truth and nobody was believing me so far. What would it take for them to believe me!

I curled myself into a tight ball and continued to cling onto the pillow as I wept. Through the fogginess of my never ending tears, I could make out Dean's figure. Man did I feel like such a baby. I could feel myself starting to hallucinate again, Ruthie was crouched down on her hunches with her chin on the covers of the bed. Her whites eyes levelled my own. She grinned sadistically and let out a cackle that burst my ear drums. I let out a shriek of despair and I was snapped back into reality by my brother who had pulled me into a protective embrace. My eyes were wild and swimming with overflowing and unshed tears.

"I'm not crazy," I howled, "You gotta believe me."

Dean just continued to rock me back and forth, his chin resting on the top on my baseball cap. My fingers curled around the folds of his shirt, my face buried into his chest. I continued to cry as I started to think about Sam. Sam would believe me, he always believed me. Still, he was gone now.

"I can't go back there. I can't" I bawled.

"Alright. Alright calm down," whispered Dean, "Dad and I will go talk to your Principle tomorrow and we'll shag ass ourselves outta this state."

"That better be a promise" I sniffed gazing up at him with tearful puppy dog eyes.

He cupped my chin and stared into my eyes "When it comes to you. I never break a promise."

**The next day**

The following day, Ruthie seemed to have backed off. I had a bad feeling about it. It was like she was plotting something. However I had a relatively peaceful day at school. I managed to wrangle myself a C grade on my English report. I wrote a load of fantasy crap about my family, let's face it if I wrote the truth Mrs Malone would be packing me off to visit the school physiatrist. I felt kinda safe. That is until the bell went at the end of the day. I saw Dad and Dean enter the building just at the start of my last lesson before the bell. Principle Anderson wouldn't know what hit him that is the gale force which is my father and brother. I sat on the stairs of the main entrance, waiting on them coming out. I felt relieved, I was escaping this hellhole, escaping Ruthie and her mental torture. I felt a small tap on my shoulder but what startled me more was that I was suddenly on the school roof. I heard a familiar giggle come from behind me. I spun around and was confronted with Ruthie. This was not good.

I shuffled backwards only to find myself teetering on the edge of the roof, thankfully I regained my balance. It wasn't skyscraper height but it was still high up from the ground. I looked down and swallowed nervously, I tugged at my baseball cap in an attempt for good luck. Well it was called my lucky hat.

"I feel like I should let you in on a little secret of mine Christina" taunted Ruthie stalking towards me.

"What are you?" I snarled, my hands balled into tight fists, I was ready to fight.

"Well firstly," started Ruthie, "My name is Lilith and I am your worst nightmare."

She chuckled "You have no idea what I have in store for you precious little family."

I frowned "What do you mean by that. What plans?"

Lilith smirked and grabbed a hold of my sweater "You'll see."

Suddenly I heard a voice, I glanced down with my eyes to notice Dad "Christina! What the hell are you doing up there!"

Another voice followed, it was Dean and he sounded frantic "Chrissie don't move! I'm comin' for you! Just for the love of God don't move!"

Lilith giggled nastily, glaring into my eyes "Enjoy your flight."

Then she pushed me over the edge. I let out a scream of terror as I fell like a stone. The yells of Dad and Dean echoed throughout my ears as the wind rushed pasted me. I hit the ground with a bone cracking thud. Everything went black.

_**Please send me a review. Pretty please. I will continue to update if you do so. Once again request are greatly welcomed.**_


	6. There's Something Wrong with Ruthie 3

_**Here's the conclusion to the Ruthie story. Enjoy and please, please review. Also check out my other prequel series focusing on wee Chris, and the main series. Cheers!**_

**Dean's POV**

Sitting in that Principle's office brings back memories of my own childhood. I was glad to leave after our meeting. Chris had been getting trouble by some kid who looks like she should be in "the Village of the Damned" of something. The kid freaked me out but it was Chris I was concerned about. She had only been at this school for three days and in those three days she had become an empty shell of the annoying kid sister that she is. She had claimed that this kid called Ruthie was a demon. I didn't know what to believe myself but I couldn't give up on my baby sister when she was in trouble. Dad was the first one outside when I heard him shout:

"Christina! What the hell are you doing up there!"

There was a tone of fear in his voice and I rushed out to investigate. What I saw scared the living hell outta me. My ten year old little sister was perched on the edge of the school roof. What was worse was that I could see another figure with her. It was that freak kid Ruthie and she was holding her by the collar of her sweater. For a brief second I swear I saw the kid's eyes go white. Shit!

I called up to Chris "Chrissie don't move! I'm comin' for you! Just for the love of God don't move!"

I could see the fear in her eyes and suddenly I saw a sight I never wish to see again. Ruthie let go of my sister and she fell from the roof's edge like a rock. I let out a terrified roar and raced to try and catch her but the force she was falling at was too quick. She landing with a heavy crunch. I hoped to God that crunch wasn't her neck snapping. I fell to my knees beside her limp rag doll body, Dad flopped down beside me. I pressed my ear against her chest. Thank God she was still breathing. I breathed a sign of relief as I her eyes fluttered open.

**Chris's POV**

I was dead. I had to be. My goddamn neck broke as soon as I bounced off the ground. Through the darkness I could sense a hand on my forehead and for a moment I swear a pair of blue eyes blinked at me. A flash of light brought me out of the darkness and I was suddenly alive again. I could feel something heavy on my chest. Shit my head was killing me! I needed to open my eyes. My eyelids creaked open and I could make out the very foggy face of my Dad and Dean. How the hell did I survive falling from a roof!

"Daddy?" I croaked lifting my arm to search for him "Where are you? Don't leave me Daddy."

I felt his hand in mine and I heard him say "It's me baby. I'm here and I ain't going nowhere."

My other arm went to search for Dean. He grabbed my hand and I groggily looked at him. I could see no sign of Ruthie anywhere. Or should I say Lilith. I tried to sit up but I was forced back down.

"No honey you gotta stay still," said Dad who turned to Dean, "Call 911. Hurry."

Dean disappeared with his cell phone, leaving me with Dad. I screwed my eyes in agony, I could sense the warm feeling of blood. I think it was from the side of my head. I'm not sure. I was aching all over. I wriggled with the discomfort only to be told off by Dad. I lay there with my Dad and brother by my injured body for several minutes before I could hear the faint sounds of an ambulance siren. I groaned. I hated hospitals. I swear once that freaky healing hand touched me, all my internal injuries were cured like a switch of a light bulb. It didn't cure my killer headache though. Which was a bitch. I was feeling sleepy suddenly and I could feel my eyes closing just as I could hear the footsteps of the paramedics.

**Five Hours Later**

Concussion was my diagnosis. Concussion! What the hell I fell of a damn roof I walk away with concussion! Dad was being awkward around me as he was not the mother hen type. Less could be said about Dean. He kept fussing over the slightest thing. Was I too hot? Too cold? Was I hungry? Thirsty? Sheesh. It remind me of when I was small and it would be the same routine if I caught a cold. Even then it pissed me off. Then again it has it's perks. I had control over Dean with a simple whine or whimper. It was like having a servant running around after you which was brilliant. Dad and Dean were shocked when the hospital staff released me out early regarding the accident I had. I couldn't give a rats ass personally. I wanted to get out of this town and on the road again. After this incident I prayed I would never have to go back to school again. School wasn't even safe from the supernatural.

Dad carried me into the motel and gently lay me on the bed. His eyes were soft and caring. A side of him I never knew existed until now.

"I don't know what I'd do without you baby," he told me in a quiet voice whilst stroking my hair, "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Neither would your mother. You remind me so much of her you know that. You've inherited her smile and beauty."

I felt a pain in my chest, the empty space in my heart was aching again. I so wish I knew her. I wish everyday that she was still with us but her fate was sealed on that night of the fire, when she burned alive in my nursery.

Dad planted a kiss on my forehead and patted the top of my head before he wander off to the bar. I sighed, he'd come back in a few hours drunk as a skunk, it was custom for him. I felt a nudge at my foot, I looked up to see Dean grinning and brandishing a video.

"Lemme guess, _Die Hard_" I said.

"Nope. _Rush Hour_" he replied shoving the video into the player "How 'bot it Karate Kid?"

Suddenly forgetting my concussion I leapt up "Hell yeah!"

So we laughed along with the capers of Carter and Lee the rest of the night with me curled up next to my brother, who had a protective arm around me. I smiled to myself. Everything was going to be alright now. In the morning we would be long gone. Although Lilith's words haunted me. She had plans for my family. It was just the matter of finding out what the hell she meant by it. I hoped she was lying, but I knew by her tone she wasn't. I dreaded the day when I would see her again. As the Terminator says "I'll be back."


	7. Daddy's Clumsy Little Soldier

**If at first you don't succeed. Try, try again. Well that's how the saying goes don't it?**

The target was set. A row of aluminium tin cans waited for the inevitable blow from the bullet that would soon pierce into their cavities. I stood two metres away, a .45 Caliber in my shivering hand.

"Shoot all the cans," commanded Dad from behind me. "Don't miss."

Gulping nervously, I went to pull the trigger only to be stopped by Dad.

"No. No. No!" he barked.

I stopped in my tracks. _Now what have I done? _I thought. Dad was grouchy and by my guessing was that I had made him that way. Heck, ever since the fire that claimed the life of my Mom he had been that way. Bottles of Jack Daniels, bad diner food and crap rentals and motels don't help either. I lowered the gun as Dad marched over.

"Your doing it all wrong," he hissed. "How many times have I to remind you, you do not stand like that!"

After my inappropriate stance was corrected with a tug of the arms, a nudge to the back of my knees and a twist of my head, I was ready.

"Now pay attention and concentrate" Dad added with a harsh tone in his gruff voice.

Bullet after bullet was fired from the .45's barrel, the nine cans ripped apart and fell off the crumbling wall, flying backwards into the overgrown thorn bush. However, regardless on how hard I tried, tin can number ten refused to budge from it's spot. It was like the moment when you go to one of those lame sideshows at carnivals, you know the game when you have to knock down the tin cans with a ball of some sort by they never move. That's what it was like for me. As Dad examined my unskilful remains, he shook his head.

"You missed again," said Dad. He reassembled the cans once more. "From the top."

**Later**

"For Christ sake Chris!," shouted Dad furiously. "Now look what you've done!"

A large bottle of holy water had slipped out of my hands due to it's heavy weight, resulting in the content exploding all over the grimy carpet.

"I'm sorry" I murmured sheepishly. Shuffling towards the door I made a swift exit as I could feel tears pooling in my eyes.

I felt so ashamed. What was the point. Nothing was going right for me, which was normal, and now I felt so useless and pissed at myself. Why did I have to be so clumsy and stupid. Scolding was second nature to me. I was yelled at for every little detail. From wearing my baseball cap indoors to sitting on the arm of the chair, mispronouncing Latin, and even talking with my mouth full just as soon as somebody asked me a question. You name it. Everything I did was wrong and each time that happened, I felt an even bigger disappointment in the eyes of my Dad. I probably was. To put it simply, I was a jinx, a curse upon my family, a bad luck charm, causing misery and chaos wherever I went. Suddenly, on gazing sadly at the calendar that was pinned on the wall above my bedside table, I realised something. Today was the second of May, Sam and I's birthday. Not like my eleventh birthday had been commemorated in anyway. Suddenly I heard my cell phone beep. A text message had been received. Curious I investigated. The text read:

_**Happy Birthday Shadow. Missing you everyday. Sammy.**_

With tears in my eyes I replied with a simple statement:

_**Likewise Bigfoot.**_

Despair and isolation overwhelmed me at that point that I broke down. Hugging the cell phone close to my splintered heart, tears cascading down my freckled face. Rage caused me to frisbee my baseball cap across the room before I collapsed onto my lumpy pillow. Sobs wracked my skinny frame, shoulders convulsing with grief. Never in my life have I wanted to be held so bad. Just to be told that everything thing would be better in the morning. Never in my life have I wanted my brother so bad. But he was gone. Leaving me all alone. Crying myself to sleep seemed to sound pretty reasonable at the time. I did just that.

_**Alright folks listen up. I'm struggling with this part of my Chris series so I'm gonna need some help. Should my next one be:**_

_**Chris gets kidnapped by vampires?**_

_**Chris gets possessed by a demon?**_

_**Or Chris gets hurt?**_

_**PM me your thoughts on those ideas…or if you have any I'll be more than glad to hear them.**_

_**Once again I really need help with this side of the story…writer's block doesn't help.**_

_**Review please (I need feed back on these ones as I regard them as my weaker story)**_


	8. Knock Knock

**Folks always curse at the dumb kid who opens the door in horror movies…well for once I was that kid. **

Sitting on the kitchenette countertop I watched my Dad gather his weapons. Demons had been lurking about in town and with their carefully thought out plan, the demons were being brought down tonight. It had been leaked that they were gathering in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. On finding this out, Dad and Dean were ready to kick some demonic butt. As for me…well I wasn't wearing my wounded puppy dog look for nothing. Dad joined me in the kitchenette, taking a small shot glass outta the highest cabinet that I was underneath. A small shot of alcohol for good luck seemed to be a custom to him.

"I won't get in the way," I begged Dad as he poured whiskey into the glass. "I promise."

"Christina please," started Dad after he gulped down the golden liquid. "Not now."

"But why?," I complained. "Why can't I come?"

"Because it's too dangerous," Dad said, clearly getting irritated by my whining. "I don't want you getting hurt in the crossfire."

That pissed me off. For weeks I had been slaving away at my Latin, failing on pronunciations and spelling half the time, getting bruised and scuffed due to sparring practice and fence vaulting. Target practice was always a dread as I was forever missing the damn tin cans. For Dad to tell me it was too dangerous was the last straw. Wasn't I capable of doing anything right? Apparently not. My hands balled into tight fists.

"Then why the hell are you training me then!" I exclaimed in seething outrage.

Dad paused and turned his dagger like stare to me. Through my anger I had forgotten who I was talking to.

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me young lady," he hissed furiously, his dark eyes shining with annoyance. "You are staying here whether you like it or not. No arguments. It is too dangerous for a ten year old…"

"I'm eleven Dad" I corrected him.

"What?"

"I'm eleven," I repeated. "It was my birthday four days ago."

Dad's eyes softened. Okay _this _was the last straw. He had done it now. Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, I simply glared at him.

"You forgot" I stated, trying vainly to stop my voice cracking due to emotion.

"No…no..no…I didn't forget," Dad said, obviously lying through his teeth to try and comfort me. "I've been busy that's all."

I couldn't believe my ears and all I did was shoot watery daggers at him.

"I've noticed" came the whisper from my voice as I slid down from the countertop.

Turning my baseball cap front ways and with the tongue of the hat firmly tugged down so a shadow cast over my misting green eyes, I parked my ass on the motel couch. Dad's gaze was still on me, I could feel it burning inside me. He continued to do so as he salted the window frames and door ways, a task I would mess up. Within a few minutes he was gone. Slowly I went to the window as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot. Passing the door I kicked the thin air angrily, unaware I had disturbed the salt line. Half an hour later, after I had another good cry to myself, there was a knock at the door. Growing up I was told to ignore it and to avoid the windows. Social services would be on Dad's ass if they found out if I was left home alone. Hell, maybe I was better off in foster care. I'd get attention at least. Throwing caution to the wind I answered the door, which would prove to be a very foolish thing to do.


	9. How's Your Daughter John?

_**This is part 2 of the previous chapter taking on board Dean's POV. **_

I knew the kid was pissed. She hadn't been the same since Sammy left for California. Her tongue had gotten sharper along with her language and all her training was taking it's toll even though she tried to hide it. Dad said it was a phase she was going through and it would pass. I hoped so since I missed my spunky little sister from her ranting and ramblings to the way she would annoy me by singing those damn theme tunes from _Pokemon _and _Spongebob Squarepants _in my ear whilst driving. Isolation had taken over her and she rarely said a word apart from curses whenever she made a mistake. Once we pulled away from the motel I noticed the kid was wearing her baseball cap front ways. That signalled one thing and one thing only, she was either upset, or seriously moody. When she wore that cap you could guess her moods by how she positioned it on her head. Whenever the cap was positioned sideways on the right side it meant she was happy or just average. To the left it meant anger and ready to knee you in the jewels. When she wore it backwards it stated she was in a mischievous and playful mood, something I longed to see. Nowadays the cap remained mostly on the left or front.

"I can't help but think something is bothering Chrissie" I said to Dad as we drove passed a gas station.

"If there was she would have said by now" replied Dad gripping the steering wheel.

"Chris admitting her true feeling in public," I quipped sarcastically. "In what dimension or parallel universe would that happen in?"

Half the time I reckon I'm a bad influence on my baby sister. When she was in first grade she would pick fights with older kids in self defence. Let's just say teaching her how to kick and punch might not have been the wisest choice I've made. Swearing is another. The kid ain't afraid to verbally assault you with course language. On that matter I blame once again myself and that TV show _South Park. _Yet bottling up emotions has got to be the worst trait she has mimicked from me.

"Your sister is going through a tough time just now…"

"Ain't we all"

"..but she'll be fine. Believe me it's her starting to grow up. It'll get worse when she becomes a teenager."

Driving towards the abandoned warehouse were the demons were hiding, thoughts drifted into my head.

"She should be with us," I stated. "I don't like leaving her alone."

Dad grounded the car to a halt.

"Chris is a smart kid," he said. "Nothing bad will happen to her while we are gone."

Those words didn't put my mind at ease at all. With our family's luck that would have jinxed the whole situation. Scanning the warehouse I gulped down my fears about my sister being left alone without protection.

"Let's go" announced Dad climbing out of the driver's seat,

I followed.

The warehouse was deserted, a stupid thing to say about a joint that's abandoned anyways. Glass and debris littered the ground and pale moonlight seeped through the broken windows. You couldn't even hear a pin drop. Dad and I scoped the place with caution and stealth, guns poised. A shadow darted behind Dad. It was one of the demons. Suddenly the shadow zoomed out of the shadows and leapt towards me in attack.

"Thought you guys would never show up" laughed the demon, who was possessing an older man ages with Dad.

The demon was surprisingly fast for me and without warning, delivered a blow to my stomach then another to my lower back. The kicks took my breathe away. Winded and bruised I hadn't noticed that I had dropped my gun. The demon noticed before me and lunged at me once more, yanking me up from my knees and coiling a thick arm around my neck.

"Nice try boy," jeered the demon, his eyes flashing black as he wrenched my other arm behind my back. "But your no match for me."

Okay that was not planned. It's pretty embarrassing how I got my ass kicked by some old dude.

"Let my son go you demonic bastard!" growled Dad.

The demon rolled it's eyes and released the grip it had on me.

"He's not the one we want anyway," it said with a devilish chuckle. It cocked it's head and added with a smirk. "How's your daughter John?"

Dad and I exchanged a terrified gaze before returning to the demon who just stood casually before us.

"What do you know about my daughter? What are you talkin' about?" asked Dad, lowering his gun slightly.

"My comrades are at your motel door," answered the demon. "And your little girl is about to answer the door. That's what I'm saying."

_**Part 3 coming up next which will return to Chris POV**_

_**Tell me what you think by reviewing and if you have ideas concerning this plotline PM me.**_


	10. Never Run Into A Dark Alleyway

**Part 3 which returns to Chris's POV**

_**THEN**_

_There was a knock at the door. Growing up I was told to ignore it and to avoid the windows. Social services would be on Dad's ass if they found out if I was left home alone. Hell, maybe I was better off in foster care. I'd get attention at least. Throwing caution to the wind I answered the door, which would prove to be a very foolish thing to do._

**NOW**

Standing in the doorway was a woman. She looked to be around twenty seven years old and of Japanese ethnicity. Raven hair tumbled across her shoulders and curled at the edges, her slender figure emphasised by her tight jeans and leather biker jacket. Was she a hunter? I wondered as I inspected her with furrowed eyebrows. Or was she due to join the list of one night stands my dear older brother participated in?

"Hi there" she said, her voice going all sugary and syrupy on seeing me peeking round the door.

"Can I help you?," I asked, my fingers curling around wood. "If your looking for my Dad…or my brother, they ain't in at the moment."

The young woman just grinned, exposing her pearl like teeth. Three more figures appeared behind her at that moment. One was a man in his mid thirties, with dark skin and a buzz cut hairstyle. The other one was another woman, aged forty three possibly with curly brown hair and a purple linen shirt.

"No," the Asian girl said. "We not looking for your Daddy or your brother."

Glancing down at my feet I was disturbed by the sight I confronted on doing so. The salt line was broken. Snapping my head up again I recoiled in horror as the Asian girl's eyes transformed into a dark demonic black. The others had black eyes too which sent me panicking even further. As I started backing away slowly, the demons glided forward, their evil orbs focused on me.

"It's you we want sweetheart," cooed the Asian girl as my back collided with the bathroom door. "We've been wanting you for a very long time."

My head was spinning. What was I going to do? I was cornered by three demons and I was unarmed which didn't help matters at all. Unwise as it seemed at the time, the best thing I could do was just to run like hell. Speed was one of my best gifts and my sudden movement took the demons by surprise. A quick dart to the right and I dive under the kitchenette table saw me avoid the male demon. A unfortunate misreading of judgement caused him to successfully grab me by the scruff of my hooded sweater. What the demon didn't count on was for the heel of my high top to crunch onto the bone of his foot, an effective escape method I still use to this day. In reaction to the pain, the demon swung for me, knocking my baseball cap off in the process. My escape was more important at this time and I proceeded to bolt out of the door. The two females missed their chance to catch me and I shot out of the room like a bullet out of a gun. I knew I could never out run them, but it was worth a try. My high tops smacked the ground as I ran for my life and I could hear the shriek of a car starting behind me. Propelling myself forward with my arms and legs, I raced across the near silent street and skidded into a spooky alley way. Halting for a moment to catch my breathe I scanned about. No sign of the demons. There were still lurking about which was a certain fact. Creeping further and further into the dark alley, meowing of street cats and the haggard cough of a drunken homeless guy, sent chills down my spinal cord. The alley way soon came to a dead end. Another sound delivered fresh shiver down my spine. Devilish cackles echoed within the shadows that enclosed around me. Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I saw nothing. At that moment a hand, clutching a white cloth, clamped around my mouth, muffling my petrified screams.

The male demon had me in a firm vice like grip, I wriggled as he yanked an arm behind my back. The Asian girl stalked up to me and crouched down to my level. She cocked her head and placed a cool hand on my face. My vision was going cloudy which made me more frightened as I struggled under the demon's hold.

"Shhh shhh," hushed the Asian demon, her fingers snaking across my freckled skin. "Don't be scared. We won't hurt you. Well not yet anyway."

The demons roared with laughter. Laughter that followed me as I slipped into blackness. Before I fell into unconsciousness I found myself shrieking:

"DADDY!"

_**Part 4 will return to Dean's POV.**_

_**Review please and if you have any ideas or queries concerning this storyline, by all means PM me. Ideas and requests are more than welcome.**_


	11. A Simple Trail Of Sulphur

_**Part 4 Dean's POV**_

**THEN**

"_He's not the one we want anyway," it said with a devilish chuckle. It cocked it's head and added with a smirk. "How's your daughter John?"_

_Dad and I exchanged a terrified gaze before returning to the demon who just stood casually before us. _

"_What do you know about my daughter? What are you talkin' about?" asked Dad, lowering his gun slightly._

"_My comrades are at your motel door," answered the demon. "And your little girl is about to answer the door. That's what I'm saying."_

**NOW**

"Your lying," growled Dad through gritted teeth, gun poised straight at the demon's face. "Your kind always lies."

The demon spun round on the balls of it's feet, a smug smirk on it's face as it confronted our expressions. The demon paused for a moment, head tilted to one side as if it was in a trance. Chrissie was a smart kid, like Dad had said many times in the past. Nothing was gonna harm her. Deep down I knew the demon was speaking the god awful truth. Black orbs returned and gazed at us intently as the demon became animated.

"You really shouldn't have left her alone John," it taunted. "What kind of parent leaves their child home alone when there's big bad demons around? And what would your wife think about that?"

Dad's knuckles flushed white as they curled into fists, his index finger trembling on the trigger. The dim lights scattered about the warehouse began to flicker, cold air blustered in sending shivers up my spine. Suddenly the demon threw it's head back and let out a loud roar as smoke billowed out of it's mouth. The demon wretched during the disturbing process, shaking as the evil was expelled before crumbling to the floor.

"It's lying," said Dad breaking out of his rage. He hurried towards the stairs that led to the exit. "Demons lie. Your sister is safe, I lined every angle of the room with salt I swear. Nothing could have got in."

Silent as I was, for the first time in a long time I was sceptical about my Dad's words. Chris was a street smart kid with a kick ass attitude but she still had some naivety about the world. My sister was only a little girl, and no matter what she was still vulnerable. If she was in danger, it was my duty as her big brother to rescue her from whatever trouble she was in.

Speed limits were ignored as we sped back to the motel, and all the way I had mental images of Chris fending of demons single handed with any scrap of weapons to defend her self. Years ago I told her :

"If you can't kick a bully's ass, then run like hell"

Chris could always handle bullies. Hell, when she was four and a half she booted a six year old in the nuts for knocking down a little boy's sandcastle. She told me that whenever the nerds at school had trouble they would ask her to be a bodyguard to them. Most times Chris came back from school with a split lip and a shiner due to fights. Dad would go nuts at her. With her baseball cap facing backwards Chris would reply:

"The brat had it comin'! Besides you should be proud that I won!"

It scared me when she would say stuff like that. Mostly because I see myself when I was her age, minus the scruffy hair and _Pokemon _cards in her back pocket. Nevertheless, demons were far more dangerous compared to bigger kids. Kids tease, demons kill.

The motel sign came into view, several of the neon light bulbs had exploded which did not ease our worries. Then I saw it. Our motel door was winging freely at the hinges as the breeze whistled past. Without hesitation, Dad and I leapt out of the car and dashed inside the room that we had claimed for the week. Everything appeared tidy and nothing had been over turned.

"Chris!" I called out in hope that the kid was merely hiding under the bed.

"Shit!," cursed Dad as he noticed the broken salt line at the doorway. He ran his fingers alongside the wooden frame. Swearing again he turned to me with a sticky substance on his fingertips. "Sulphur."

In his angst he slammed the door with a bang before slumping against the wall. If I wasn't present I had the feeling he would have broken down on the spot. Chris was the baby and we had let her down. Running my hands through my cropped hair as I paced the room in agitation, my eyes suddenly focused on something. The object was dirty white in color and had a dark gray tongue, laying behind the couch in a way as if it had been knocked over. With a hitch of a breathe I knelt on my haunches to pick it up, my stomach dropped with a thud as I held my baby sister's beloved baseball cap in my shaking hands. My fingers traced the words inscribed onto the material, _Born To Be Wild_, words that spoke true about Chris.

"Don't worry Chrissie," I whispered. "We've comin' for ya."


	12. Round One

_**Part 5 Chris's POV**_

**THEN**

_The demons roared with laughter. Laughter that followed me as I slipped into blackness. Before I fell into unconsciousness I found myself shrieking:_

"_DADDY!"_

**NOW**

Something was biting me. Not only that but it was rubbing against my wrists and ankles causing painful friction as the course feeling irritated my skin whenever I tried to move. I had been drugged which was a dead set fact, my guessing was Chloroform. Still sluggish, I rose my sagging head slightly.

"Wakey wakey princess," crooned a voice followed by an icy hand slipping under my chin. "Time to open those gorgeous green eyes."

My eyes cracked open a fraction, allowing me some time to see the Asian demon glaring at me with her black orbs. As her hand cupped my face, her deep purple nails glided across my cheeks, in a gentle way that was almost soothing. Glancing down I realised what was causing my wrists and ankles discomfort, thick industrial rope was biding me to a chair. Suddenly I was animated, fear quivering internally and externally. Duck tape had been slapped across my mouth so the only sounds escaping my lips were small petrified whimpers. The Asian demon stroked my face as she tried to hush me.

"There's no point in screaming sweetheart," she cooed, smiling sweetly. "Nobody can hear you."

Her lipstick oozed across her plump lips as she grinned. On her haunches she cocked her head at me.

"I believe we haven't been introduced properly," she said. "My name is Kira. And I know who you are, Christina Winchester."

I frowned. Forever curious I waited for what she had to say next.

"I've heard your story," Kira began. "Quiet a sad one if you ask me. Mommy erupting into flames above your cot leading to a life on the road with your Daddy and big brothers. Growing up without the hint of a normal childhood."

I screwed my eyes shut. I had heard enough. Kira wasn't finished yet, she had just begun. Looming forward till she was inches away from my nose she uttered menacingly:

"When you think about it really carefully, everything is your fault. The fire _did _start in your nursery after all. Perhaps that's why Daddy doesn't love you. Because you killed Mommy. The way he treats you is appalling. Bossing you around, forgetting your birthday_, _and even leaving you alone in some run down dump of a motel. Your family probably wishes that you were never born. You caused your family's downfall."

Demons normally give false facts and tell lies but this was no lie. It was the truth. Maybe it would have been better if I was never born. Forget the maybe, _it would _have been better if I was never born. May the 2nd 1991 was an jinx upon my family, normality died that day. Tears pooled in my eyes as the image of my Mom floated in my mind. She had such a zest for life and her kids. Her image smiles adoringly at me which sends the tears cascading down my face.

The words _I'm so sorry Mom _was repeated mentally in my head, I could hear Kira titter. It came to my attention that she was talking to the other demons.

"Damn Kira your good," said the buzz cut male demon with an impressed expression. "You really know how to make a kid cry."

Kira swooped her raven hair over her shoulder and stood at an angle with her hand on her hip, thumb hooked around the belt loop casually. Through my cloudy vision I could make out the male demon's stance. He too had trances of dark hair despite a majority of it been shaved off, which contrasted against his olive skin. The earth colored t-shirt he was wearing highlighted his developing ab muscles. Kira slinked her arms around his waist.

"It's all a matter of practice CJ," Kira pointed out. She added seductively as she pressed herself up against CJ's toned body. "Stick with me and I'll show you all kinds of tricks."

_Look away God damn it, look away _I murmured to myself just as CJ and Kira began locking lips. After several minutes, Kira departed leaving me with CJ.

"Your turn," I heard her say as she swayed out the dark cellar.

_Huh? What? _

CJ cracked his knuckles, a sound that sent ripples of panic throughout my body. A sneer spread across his lips as he stalked closer and closer.

_This is gonna hurt_

Balling up my hands I waited for the dreaded impact.

**Smack! **

_Sonofabitch! That hurt!_

**Smack!**

_Oucccchhh!_

His fist crunched into the side of my face, making me cry out in pain. My eyes watered but the bastard didn't stop.

**Smack!**

_Stop it please! Your hurting me!_

Obviously that was his angle. I could feel a bruise forming on my jaw due to the fierce force of the punch. Sure I've been punched in the face before but this was a whole different kettle of fish.

**Smack!**

_Please stop!_

**Smack!**

_Stop it!_

**Smack!**

_My brother is gonna castrate you when he comes for me!_

**Smack!**

_Rescue me Daddy! I can't hold on forever!_

**Smack!**

_Somebody help me! _

**Smack! Smack! Smack!**

_DDDDEEEAAANNNN!_

_**To be continued…..**_

_**Please review **_

_**(and if you have any ideas concerning Chris's ordeal/rescue then you only need to PM me, I will reply)**_


	13. How may I direct this call?

_**Part 6 Dean's POV**_

**THEN**

_With a hitch of a breathe I knelt on my haunches to pick it up, my stomach dropped with a thud as I held my baby sister's beloved baseball cap in my shaking hands. My fingers traced the words inscribed onto the material, Born To Be Wild, words that spoke true about Chris. _

"_Don't worry Chrissie," I whispered. "We're comin' for ya."_

**NOW**

I was livin' my worst freakin' nightmare. Hunting those demonic sonabitches and sending them straight back to hell was top priority in my _things to do _list. Before I could storm in and kill them I had to have my baby sister by my side, safe and without a scratch. If they bruised or maimed her in any way it would be the last thing they would do on this god forsaken planet. Nobody and I mean nobody touches my little sister. The smell of the kiwi shampoo the kid used wafted into my nostrils as I inhaled the familiar smell from the cap. The kid wore the cap so much it reeked of the stuff. If the kid was there at that moment she would have said:

"Dude why are you sniffin' my hat? God, I hope it ain't a new fetish"

Dad was silent but I knew the cogs and wheels in his head were turning frantically. Slowly he eased his way over to the kitchenette table and pulled out a marked out map. We had been tracking the demons down for the past two days and we tagged two locations in which they used as base camp. First there was an old derelict barnyard on the entrance to town. The owners had kicked the bucket years ago and nobody decided to move in since…well whenever the owners kicked the bucket I guess. Seemed to be a good hideout. Next was an empty boathouse at the harbour, used to store fishing nets and ropes. My logic pointed towards the boathouse.

"I hope to God we find her in time" muttered Dad, a sense of defeat in his voice.

"Don't think like that Dad!," I said in shock which turned to outrage. "How can you _think _like that! This is Chris, not some random stranger!"

Slamming his fist on the table Dad shot his daggers at me. His eyes weary with age and guilt ridden anguish.

"There are things you don't know about your sister…."

"What the hell are you talking about Dad? What things?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, and after realising a shaking sign he continued:

"That night of the fire, I can't help but think that whatever killed your mother…was after Chris…and now…."

He paused and bit his lip furiously.

"….it's tracked her down, and I can't do anything about it because I haven't found the answers. God….I should have tried harder…all these years of protecting her and I've failed. I've failed my baby girl."

This was something I had never seen in Dad before, something I hadn't seen in years. Dad was actually showing a different emotion. He got up abruptly and entered the bathroom. Knowing better I didn't follow or persist with questions. My nightmare was getting worse. I slumped on the couch, the kid's baseball cap still in my hands. Suddenly it occurred to me, Chris carried her cell phone in her jeans pocket. She had a saying for her cell phone:

"My cell is so old, I have to throw coal in it"

Delving into my own pocket I pulled out my own cell phone. Would it work? I prayed to who ever was listening upstairs, for Chris to have her cell with her, wherever she was. After pressing dial on her number I waited for several seconds, hoping for her to answer. There was a click and a sound from the other end.

"This is the brat Winchester's captor speaking," came the voice, female and by the sounds a right bitch. "How may I direct this call?"

With flared nostrils and gritted teeth I was very keen to give this bitch a piece of my mind.

"Where is my sister you black eyed skank!" I snarled.

"Just a moment" replied the demon in a cutesy pie manner.

I could make out several crackles before I shudder with angst as I could pick up whimpers and a loud rip. Then came the sound I had been dying to hear, and just as Dad exited the bathroom with an inquiring expression.

The voice sounded small, afraid, upset and broken. I could help but smile on hearing:

"_Dean? Is that you?" _

_**To be continued…**_

_**Please review**_


	14. Holding Out For A Hero

_**Part 7 Chris's POV**_

Kira came back after CJ got bored with slapping me about. My cheeks were flushed and stinging as if I had been attack by a swarm of bees, my right eye was bruised and beginning to swell. Kira's heels clicked in a slow paced manner as my head sagged forward. Kira giggled and tickled me under the chin as if I was a baby.

_I'd bite ya if I didn't have this gag on!_

She smoothed down my messy waves, and began brushing her fingers across my facial features, studying them intently. Then suddenly her train of thought was disturbed by a soft but prominent noise.

"**Who lives in a pineapple under the sea…"**

_What the hell is making that noise? Wait a sec? That's my cell phone!_

Kira grabbed my chin with her fingers and squeezed hard, glaring at me with a sense of fury but with a flicker of mischief. Clearly she didn't count of me having a device that others could contact me on. In a flash she had fished out my cell phone from my jeans pocket.

"This is the brat Winchester's captor speaking," Kira announced brightly. "How may I direct this call?"

A large devious grin spread across her lips as she waited on an answer from the other end. I knew who it was. There was no doubt.

"Just a moment" said Kira.

Marching over with the cell in her hand she ripped of the duck tape from my mouth. I reacted with a wince.

_Ouch_

Holding the cell to my ear, Kira nodded for me to speak. With a cracked voice made dry because of the duck tape I found it hard to find my voice. After licking my lips to regain lost moisture, I leaned into the cell phone.

"Dean?," I squeaked. "Is that you?"

At that point my bottom lip began to tremble with emotion and tears filled my eyes. It was my brother on the other end of the line, the brother I forever teased, pestered and most important of all, loved with all my heart. My hour of need was now and if I knew my brother, he would venture to hell and back again just to rescue me from danger. For I would do the very same in return.

"Chrissie!," came my brother's panic stricken voice. "Thank God it's you!"

Big fat tear drops spurted down my scarlet cheeks at the sound of my brother's voice as it gave me a sense of comfort. With convulsing shoulders and my speech being broken by sobs, I spoke again:

"I-I-It's m-m-my fault, I-I-I b-broke the salt l-l-l-line. I w-w-was s-stupid t-to open t-t-the d-door."

Kira abruptly took the cell from my reach and began talking to Dean herself. She raised her eyebrows in astonishment and delight as she was bombarded with verbal abuse and death threats. I wept to myself.

Kira cackled and threw her head back. It was an malicious laugh that sent chills throughout the shadows.

"You can call me names all you want sweetheart," she taunted wickedly. "But it won't help your sister."

There was a pause.

"If you want your precious baby sister, why don't you come and get her then. Meet us at the harbour boathouse in an hour. Come unarmed."

Another pause. Kira then placed the cell to my ear again. I had to gulp once or twice to compose myself.

"Please hurry," I begged, my face crumpling. "I'm frightened and I wanna go home."

Yeah. I was spilling my guts like some baby but it wasn't often I was vocal like this about my inner feelings. It was like I had aged backwards and back into my four year old self. Full of wide eyed innocence and naivety, dressed in scabby overalls, battered mary-janes with a bumblebee clip in my mad hair.

"We're comin' for you baby girl," replied Dean. "Just hang on, and give those sonsabitches a piece of your mind. Hell, even bite them with your lil' monkey teeth."

I croaked out a broken laugh. Typical, adding humour to a bad situation.

He continued.

"Remember one thing. As much as you bug the hell outta me sometimes and I wanna lock you in the Impala trunk. I love you. Never forget that."

**Beep.**

Head slumped into my chest, tears still falling, Kira slid my cell back into my pocket and gave me a sharp slap across the face once she had done so. She then left me. Alone in the dark, shivering with misery and fear. All I could do was hold on. I had to. I _needed _to.

**To be continued…..**

**Please review.**

**P.S **

**(to all those gripped by this story I'm calling on your help and advice. How do you think Chris's rescue should be planned out. What should the action/fight sequences be like. Should it be a trap and Dean falls into it, leaving John to save his two children? Where has the demon from part 2/3 gone? Or where should it go?**

**PM me with your thoughts and ideas. )**

**littlegemini93**


	15. Round Two

_**A big shout out to those folks who have reviewed so far. You guys rock!**_

_**Part 8 Chris's POV**_

Time is a fickle thing folks say, which I guess is true to some degree. It either zooms past you like no freakin' tomorrow or snail pace. The skin around my wrists and ankles were rubbed raw by this point, my face was bruised from the various slaps and punches which contrasted nicely with the red swollen eyes I had from crying. Kira and the purple linen shirt demon-who I had discovered was named Erika-reappeared out of the shadows suddenly.

Erika whose blonde hair was swept up into a messy ponytail, stalked towards me with a cruel glare before her brown eyes transformed to the familiar black. Kira joined Erika.

"What do you want with me?," I asked, a question I had repeated once to many times.

The demons chuckled. Kira crouched down at my level and held by battered face in her icy hands.

"We're just minions," she answered with a grin. "Obeying the orders of our boss."

Frowning I continued to stare at my captor as she tickled me under the chin.

_Great I'm being held by the freakin' demon Mafia _I thought to myself. I didn't dare speak that aloud as I couldn't handle any more blows to the face. This was clearly not the situation for my smart mouth and sharp witted tongue. Kira began smoothing down my hair, I hated her doing that as it caused me to shiver with fretfulness.

"The boss is very interested in you sweetheart," her creepy silky voice said. "For years he's been trying to track you down. But your Daddy is good at guarding you…"

Retracing her last words she corrected herself.

"_Was _good at guarding you. Not this time though. Daddy went and left his precious little girl all alone when he knows that there are big bad monsters out there."

"Shut up!" I pleaded pathetically, curling my fingers into tight fists.

Suddenly there was a glimmer of silver in Kira's right hand. With a wooden handle and a long blade with teeth, Kira admired the knife in her hand. A sadistic smirk spread across her features as she rolled up the bottom of my hooded sweater, exposing my flat stomach.

Then the pain hit me. Jagged teeth dragged across the sensitive skin from my hip bone towards the area under my navel. Blood was drawn and began to ooze like puss.

"P-p-p-please s-s-stop," I sobbed, scalding tears streaking down my black and blue cheeks. "I-I-It h-hurts."

Erika and Kira shot a glance at each other before cackling with laughter. A stinging slap from Erika caused me to howl and wail even further. The blade paused for a second.

"That's the idea sweetie" sneered Kira, slashing with the knife again causing me to scream in agony.

CJ stirred in at that moment, a playful leer on his facial structures. I glanced at something coming up behind CJ and then the penny dropped. He was not alone.

**To be continued…..**

**Please review.**

**The climax is approaching but who is behind CJ? **

**Ideas/requests concerning this story line can be answer through PM.**


	16. To Run or Not to Run

**Part 9 **

**Chris's POV**

_**What do you do in the face of death and danger? Stand strong? Or crumble? Maybe both?**_

_**THEN**_

_With a wooden handle and a long blade with teeth, Kira admired the knife in her hand. A sadistic smirk spread across her features as she rolled up the bottom of my hooded sweater, exposing my flat stomach._

_Then the pain hit me. Jagged teeth dragged across the sensitive skin from my hip bone towards the area under my navel. Blood was drawn and began to ooze like puss. _

"_P-p-p-please s-s-stop," I sobbed, scalding tears streaking down my black and blue cheeks. "I-I-It h-hurts."_

_Erika and Kira shot a glance at each other before cackling with laughter. A stinging slap from Erika caused me to howl and wail even further. The blade paused for a second._

"_That's the idea sweetie" sneered Kira, slashing with the knife again causing me to scream in agony._

_CJ stirred in at that moment, a playful leer on his facial structures. I glanced at something coming up behind CJ and then the penny dropped. He was not alone._

**NOW**

A woman stepped forward from behind CJ, her pale skin highlighted by the cold moonlight that peered in through gaps in the rotting wood. Her heeled cowboy boots clicked as she came forward. Red hair tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned towards me, grabbing a hold of my aching jaw.

I trembled as her black orbs glared at me.

"What's the word?" asked CJ.

"Do we kill her now?" queried Kira menacingly to the mysterious newcomer.

My eyes widened with fright. I was gonna die at the hands of demons, alone and scared. The unknown demon smirked at me before returning her attention onto her comrades.

"Not yet," replied the redheaded demon. "The time is not right. Besides you know the code. It's the Boss who must spill this little brat's blood."

The demons sniggered at my horrified expression and without warning the stranger compressed her hand onto my chest. A burning pain travelled throughout my body as if I was being branded by a white hot poker. It would be three years until I would feel that sensation again when I had a run in with some nut job red necks. A pained scream tore out my throat as the pain whizzed around my ribcage. Once the procedure was done after ten minutes, I was surprised I hadn't passed out due to the pain. Then I noticed the stranger had disappeared along with the rest of the demons.

The rope bounded my wrists and ankles to the chair seemed slacker than usual until I realised that the restraints had been slashed by Kira's knife. I wasn't stupid, I knew that it was a lure for me to escape. Could I risk it though? What would any eleven year old kid do in that situation? Abandoning the fact that I could've been caught and punished severely, I wriggled out of the binding and scuttled away. Clutching my seeping wound on my lower abdomen I hoped I would find freedom. This was my great escape. Yet as unfortunate events had the tendency to follow me, I would discover things would only go from bad to worse.

**Who was the mysterious demon? What do you think she did to Chris?**

**How bad do you think the situation get? What should be the end result?**

**PM me with your thoughts and ideas if you have any.**

**Thanks again and as always:**

**Please review **


	17. Blood and Battered

_**Part 10**_

For an abandoned boathouse, it was pretty easy to get lost. I managed to guide myself out of the dark cellar. From the desks, littered with old papers and ancient typewriters, I assumed I had wandered into the section of the building were trading was dealt with. Confining myself to a tiny corner, I waited. Waiting on my brain conjuring my next move. The oozing wound across my abdomen throbbed continuously, my trembling white knuckled fingers clutched at it. From were Kira had slashed me, I could tell I had received my first scar from the battlefield. After taking a deep breathe, I ventured off again.

As I crept down the staircase, I was aware of heavy footsteps, causing me to freeze in alarm. Suddenly gun fire rippled through the air, mixed with booming and thunderous shouts. My chest tightened with anxiety as to what was unfolding on the level below. My eyes widened with terror as Kira appeared at the bottom of the stairs, wielding her bloody knife and grinning menacingly. Her eyes turned black as she made a sudden lunge at me. Recoiling in panic, a terrified squeal escaped my lips. Fleeing from the knife crazed demon, I bolted into a deserted staff room.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breathe as I scurried about, searching for a hiding place.

An empty storage closet provide a somewhat decent hiding place. I jammed my knees up against my chest, which in all honesty caused me great pain. Through the rotting wood I could her Kira's haunting laugh.

My shattered instincts had told me to hide in the most obvious place. What a dumb move. The titter advanced closer and closer until it was almost in my ear. Screwing my eyes shut, I dreaded the second that Kira discovered me. My eyes flew open in unison to the closet door. Kira was about to attack but her attempt to do so was interrupted, for she was struck across the head with a broken pipe. I was then confronted by an all too familiar face. Shaking, I glanced up, praying that what I was seeing wasn't an illusion.

"Dean?"

My brother had finally found me. With an expression of overwhelmed relief, he pulled me into a fierce embrace. I burst into tears at that moment, clinging to him like a koala bear, my bruised face contorted with anguish as I sobbed in his strong arms.

"Thank God" my brother repeated in a wavering whisper, rocking me back and forth.

The agony of my wound seared, causing me to wince with discomfort. My brother suddenly became aware of my physical injuries on inspecting me further.

"What did those evil sonofabitches do to you?," he demanded, angst riddling in voice as he noted my bruises. His eyes widened on seeing my blood soaked wound on my stomach, with gritted teeth he growled angrily. "I'm gonna kill them."

I knew he would say that. It was a typical reaction. There would be no stopping him unleashing his wrath upon the demons that caused me harm.

As he carefully helping me out of my hiding place, allowing me to take my time due to my injury, there was movement behind us.

Without warning, Kira was once again animated and charged towards us. Dean made a fatal mistake and spun around too soon. Blood spurted a vibrant scarlet as Kira ploughed her knife deep into his side.

"NOOOO!" I shrieked as my brother toppled to the ground.

**To be continued….**

**I know, I'm delivering very short chapters on this plotline and there are constant cliff hangers but is this story grabbing your attention? **

**Is there enough hurt/angst/drama/humour and sibling and father fluff?**

**If you have ideas surrounding this part of pre-teen Chris's story then just PM with your inquiries and thoughts and I will gladly reply.**

**Personally, I find this side of Chris's saga slightly weak compared to her other stories, but you folks might think different.**

**What should this outcome be? I really would be grateful for constructive criticism on this.**

**Please review.**


	18. The Killer Blow

_**Part 11**_

* * *

**THEN**

_Without warning, Kira was once again animated and charged towards us. Dean made a fatal mistake and spun around too soon. Blood spurted a vibrant scarlet as Kira ploughed her knife deep into his side. _

"_NOOOO!" I shrieked as my brother toppled to the ground._

* * *

**NOW**

Kira smirked, a sense of pride glinting in her sadistic eyes. She shook her head pityingly at my brother, who was still trying to shield me from her. Our seeping wounds combined as I knelt down and held my brother's head in my lap. His eyes fixed on our enemy. Kira got down on her haunches, returning the glower. She smiled devilishly at him.

"Sorry, sweetheart," said Kira with a sneer. "But you simply got in the way."

Her stare landed on me. I swallowed nervously, vainly trying to compress Dean's stab wound with a free hand. My pain wasn't important anymore.

"Do you understand now, Christina," said Kira. "You cause nothing but trouble for your family. Look at your brother. It's your fault that he's in that state. You know it is."

The demon was right. I've been told that they lie through their asses, but this wasn't a lie. It was the awful truth. Dean craned his neck, exchanging a pleading look with me, whilst grabbing my bruised wrists with his bloody hands.

"Don't listen to her, Chrissie ," he said, his tone almost desperate. "Demons lie, you know that. Just please. Don't listen to her."

I wanted to believe him. Yet since I discovered the truth I have always know, deep down, my birth was the beginning of my family's tragic demise. My opinion on the subject would never change. Tears threatened to spill as I forced myself to look at Kira.

"What do you want with me?," I asked, my voice almost wavering. "Why must my family sufferer because of me?"

"I can't answer that question," stated Kira, rising to full height. "But you will find out. I'm afraid the outcome won't be pretty."

I frowned in confusion and frustration. I wanted answers. This bitch clearly wasn't gonna co-operate, her smile became more sour, as she circled my brother and I like a hungry lioness.

"Unfortunately, you'll be a thorn in our sides until the time comes," she jeered. With a snicker she added. "If you think you're a burden to your family now, it's only gonna get worse with time. From our perspective it's actually amusing. Still, the fun hasn't even started yet."

Dean shifted from his current position, still trying to guard me from Kira. It was obviously causing him discomfort but he was gritting his teeth, in order to push the pain down.

"No demon is gonna take her away from me," he retorted with a snarl. "You'll need to get past me first."

Kira's grip on the knife tightened as she let out a cackle. Taking advantage of our injuries, Kira lunged at my brother with a swift manoeuvre, going in fro the killer blow. My wound burned with such intensity as I dived forward, my personal attempt of protecting my big brother from the demon. As I squawked out a battle cry, I was aware of another presence in the room. A shout of alarm identified the person straight away. It was my Dad.

"Chris! No!" he yelled, dashing forward.

This next moment resemble something outta the Matrix. The knife inched closer and closer. My brother and father continued to cry out, fearing for my safety. The hunter inside me suddenly surged like a volcano, allowing me to snatch the weapon from the distracted demon. My abrupt action surprised her, what startled her more was that I managed to obtain the upper hand of the situation.

With my limited strength and abilities I somehow managed to tackle her to the ground. At that point, with the weapon in my hand, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was born to be a hunter. Instinct then authorized me to impale the blade through the demon's neck. As the blood poured out like a red fountain, splashing on my face slightly, Kira's face became twisted with outrage and pain. Retribution was sweet, expressed clearly by the insolent smile that curved across my lips. Suddenly I was wrenched away from her, just seconds before black smoke billowed outta Kira's mouth causing her to howl. Her body crashed to the floor soon after, the knife still perfectly lodged in her neck.

Dean had pulled himself onto his feet and was holding his bleeding side. He exchanged a perplexed and shocked look with our Dad, before glancing at me, a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. I was eleven years old and I had killed someone. I looked over at Kira's dead body, a feeling of remorse and gratification conflicted within me. My act of brutal rage hadn't eased the pain in my seriously gashed pelvis, it had made it ten times worse than before. Dad failed to notice me grimacing as he pulled me into an embrace.

"How could you do that Christina!," he demanded furiously. His hands shook me roughly on the shoulders, a common thing he did whenever I was receiving a scolding. "You could've been killed!"

My heart sunk. I thought my act of bravery would've made him proud of me. Instead I was reminded of how dangerous and foolish it was, to the point I wanted to burst into tears and scream at him. What was the point. Nothing I did pleased him, not even defending my brother from getting attacked. I knew the stunt I pulled with stupid and reckless but I had to do something. The mournful glazed look in my eyes halted my father's anger.

Then the guilt settled in, next was the stumbling over his words trying to come up with apologetic words. His apology would have to wait, as I collapsed to the ground.

**Alrighty readers, there is only one more part of Chris's kidnapped plotline. Then it will resume with Chris's training and experiences of her first hunts and creatures.**

**Was the outcome good or did it suck?**

**Please review**


	19. A Papa Winchester Bedside Revelation

**Part 12 (Final)**

* * *

_Unblinking eyes were focused on me. I stared back at the figure that was standing before me. The stranger's haunting blue orbs bore right into my soul, causing me great confusion. He titled his head in an innocent gesture as I began to back away slowly from him. There was something odd, like I had seen him before. Yet nothing sprang to mind when I tried to recall anything. Slowly a small smile curled across his lips, expressing a slight emotion. I frowned._

_Something told me not to fear the man in the trench coat. Then a flash of white light brought me back into reality._

* * *

Pressure was being applied on my face before I could sense I tiny peck on my forehead. The injury was nothing from what I gathered, sure it was a pretty deep gash but I don't think it was too serious. My guessing was that an infection was battling with my immune system. I could feel strong arms around me. Creaking my eyes open, I discovered what was touching my face. Or should I say _who_.

I could feel myself burning up, as I became aware that I was nestled into my equally wounded brother. He didn't seem to notice his own pain, or rather he was ignoring it. His priority was my health and well being. I found his face, tracing my fingers along his stubble jaw line. My brother squeezed one of my hands and planted a kiss on that back of it, a gesture of comfort.

"Dean?," I croaked weakly. "Is that you?"

His mouth tugged into a strained smile as he studied my face. Relief and worry glazed his green eyes.

"Yeah, baby girl," he replied. "It's me."

I sighed, thankful that it wasn't another illusion like the funky dude in the trench coat. My grip on his hand tightened as squirmed, causing me discomfort. On doing so I realised we were in the backseat of the Impala, my eyes scanned about.

For I all I knew, more demons could've turned up and ripped chaos onto my family. I wouldn't have been any the wiser since I had passed out. Then I found him. His focus was on the road as he drove us away to safety, he seemed to be ignoring me. I knew it. He was pissed at me again. I had grown used to him lecturing and scolding me over anything I did, so getting the silent treatment was normal for me. He wasn't even checking me to see if I was okay. Turning my head away from my distracted father, I grimaced as it strained the wound. Tears sprang to my eyes, causing my brother to worry even more.

The tears wasn't the result reacting to agony, it was the result of feeling shamed and rejected. I wasn't gonna let them fall, acting like a snivelling baby wasn't gonna make a good impression. Blinking them back and swallowing the large golf ball lump in my throat, I glanced up at my brother. Sweat was gathering on his brow also, trickles sliding down his temples as he held me close. Our hands were smeared in blood, the red liquid belonging to us both, linking our DNA like a fierce chain.

My brother pushed my damp bangs outta my eyes with a trembling hand, observing every twitch of my facial features. I did the same. My mind was hazy due to the infection raging within me, but I was aware of an argument brewing between my Dad and brother. Dad was the first one to make a statement:

"I know your worried, son, but believe me, if we take her to the hospital, social services will be on our asses. Look at her! What possible explanation can we give the doctors for the state she's in? They'll think we're abusing her and they'll take her away from us. We can't afford that risk!"

I flinched at the words, hospital and social services. Two bad words that had been burrowed into me since early childhood. Hospital, even though I was deemed almost allergic to the idea was I nicer imagine, compared to scary social workers ripping me from my family and shoving me into a foster home. My fingers curled around the material of my brother's shirt as my brain flashed with horrid thoughts and images. A timid whimper escaped my lips.

"Ssshhh, sweetheart," hushed my brother soothingly, stroking my hair gently like he used to do when I was little. "It's okay, I'm here. Nothing is gonna harm you. Nobody is gonna take you away from me. I'll kick their asses all the way to Vancouver if they tried."

A thought entered my head as I began to feel extremely drowsy. Had I be smacked across the head by the demonic gang of psychopaths? I musta been, since I endured several rounds of face rearrangements, courtesy of CJ. A history of fights and scrapes had made me recognise the symptoms of concussion. This bout of concussion was gonna be a bitch on first inspection. My head was beginning to sag with fatigue and my eyes began to droop like a basset hound. A curse word signalled my brother's panic.

"No. No. No," he said, holding my face in his hands. "Chrissie, don't close your eyes, sweetheart. Please stay awake for me. Please."

He swore once again as my energy was draining fast and furiously, my skin turning a ghostly pale, highlighting my bruised and battered face even more. Despite all my strength and determination, exhaustion overwhelmed me. The last thing I heard was my brother screaming at my Dad as my eyes rolled back. Lights out. Again.

* * *

_I musta been seeing things, the man in the trench coat was back again. His piercing blue eyes burned into my mind, almost sending me into a relaxing trance. A expression of serious intelligence and wisdom on his face, combined with a flash of naivety._

"_Alright, mister," I started, snapping myself outta my daze and glaring up at him. I folded my arms. "Who are you? Why are you always in my head? Are you Freddy Krueger in disguise or something?"_

_The man appeared confused at my statement, he blinked down at me and shuffled slightly in his statue stance._

"_I am bemused by your reference" he replied with a frown._

_I studied the face further. There was something about him, something was telling me that this figure was familiar but I could not remember. I wrinkled my nose and sighed in frustration, I really dreamed some freaky stuff. _

"_We will meet again, my child," added the stranger. "The time will come when you remember my name. You will remember what I am."_

* * *

As daylight streamed into my vision as I opened my eyes, I was greeted by an unlikely sight as I stirred from my slumber. Squirming underneath bed sheets, after noticing an IV drip sticking outta a vein in my right arm, I blinked up at my weary looking father.

"Daddy?" I whispered, my voice muffled by an oxygen mask that was clasped over my nose and parched mouth.

My Dad leaned forward in his seat and grabbed my white hand, his eyes full of regret and guilt. _Guilt and regret of creating me probably _I assumed.

"Yeah, baby, it's me," he answered gruffly. He avoided my puppy dog eyed gaze desperately. "Your in hospital. You have an infection because of the gash at your pelvis. Your brother and I have told the doctors that we rescued you from a break in at the motel. It's our way of getting you off the radar of social services. Let's hope they believe it."

It would explained my brother's absence from this moment, though I could guess he would be kicking up a storm whatever ward he was on. The term, _bed rest_, is forbidden and easily ignored in my big brother's mind. If he was gonna keep a vigil over an injured family member, then folks better allow him as they would face his wrath if told otherwise. I prayed that he was safe and well. With shaking fingers, I removed the mask from my face, not caring whether or not I was permitted to do so.

"I'm sorry," I uttered, my tone apologetic and wretched. Tears began pooling in my green orbs as I added more to the broken statement. "I'm so sorry for being so much trouble. I'm sorry for not being brave. I'm sorry for being stupid and reckless. I'm sorry for being clumsy and weak. I'm sorry for being your daughter."

My Dad's eyes confronted my own, his brow furrowed as his face flushed with his own battling emotions. The most prominent was remorse. My truthful words appeared to have stirred something within him, carving out chunks of his hearts as he looked upon my battered and recovering frame. A solitary tear dropped from his dark eyes. I was stunned. This was a side of Dad I had never seen before.

"My God," he said with a thick voice, gripping my hand tighter. "What have I done to you. I'm the one in the wrong here. Not you. You've done nothing wrong. You've always been innocent. I'm the one who has screwed up. I've been a lousy father to you, and to your brothers. Too much pressure and stress has been put on your shoulders. I've made you grow up too fast. I can't protect you anymore. What kind of father am I if I can't protect my own child. If any one should be sorry, then it's me."

My broken heart, my shattered soul, was pulled from the darkness by my Dad's revelation. More tears were spilling down his face as he realised his neglect. He was silently begging for my dead mother's forgiveness. The sight of my father in private anguish caused distress within me. His hands caressed my face, catching my salty tear drops with the pads of his thumbs.

"The day you were born," said Dad. "I knew I was blessed."

A kiss was planted on the tip of my nose, then again on my forehead. Tears streamed down my black and blue cheeks, sobs hitching my breathe. God knows how long I had been waiting for a moment like this. It wasn't dramatic and gushy like in cheesy soap operas and overrated chick flick movies, it was sincere and simple.

Now I knew the truth and furthermore, to which demon bitches can suck it! My Dad _did _love me.

* * *

**And so concludes the final part of Chris's nightmare kidnapping plot.**

**Be honest, what did you guys think? ****Now, what will happen next with pre-teen Chris?**

**What mischief and trouble will come here way now as her training cranks up and the hunts begin?**

**Keep reading for more of Chris's early hunting adventures.**

**Please review**


	20. Thorn in My Ass

**Hey sorry about the neglect of this part in my Chris story. I was suffering writer's block for this section. Hopefully I've broken out of it.**

**A shout out to Alyssa Ray, she helped with this chapter :)**

* * *

I was glad to be out of the hospital. Hospitals are like bad omens to me, nothing good usually happened in those places. Also, I hated being prodded and probed like some lab rat. I was glad to be back at the motel, at least I was safe from medical staff and demons. For now at least.

The gash on my pelvis had been stitched up, to which I was told that a permanent scar would be left behind. My first battle scar, carved out by a demon's blade. Kira's voice and laugh still echoed through my mind, I could still feel her icy fingers tickling my chin.

I was reunited with my baseball cap once we settled back into the motel room, which I hadn't destroyed in trying to escape from the demons who had invaded the room hours before. My baseball cap was firmly clamped onto my scalp, the tongue facing forwards. Perched on the arm of the couch, I watched my father guide my brother to one of the beds.

Dean winced as he lowered his body onto the mattress, the pain etched clearly on his face. It killed me to see him in pain, my hero was wounded. Wounded, but not dead I reminded myself. I had the sudden urge to hug him as I crawled in bed next to him, gently snuggling up to his side. He smiled weakly and grabbed my hand letting me know it was okay. I caught the sorrow in my father's face as he turned and headed into the bathroom. The guilt of my father's words played back in my head as a combination of hurt, comfort and exhaustion overtook my body sending me into a deep sleep in Dean's protective arms.I awoke to my father's voice and a gentle shake. He was sitting next to me coaxing me into a coherent state of mind.

"Dad?" I mumbled as I rubbed my heavy lidded eyes, sitting up slightly in my position.

"Hey baby girl," he smiled, his tone gentle. "I have to leave for a few days."

So much for sticking around until we got better. So typical, whenever something bad happened Dad would ignore it or run away from it.

"Why?" I asked.

Since taking my baseball cap from my head, my hair had erupted into a wild ball of brown fluff.

"I have to take care of something important. It's only for a few days," he replied bushing the hair out of my eyes. He sighed. "I need you to do me a favor Chris."

I blinked at him, my eyes had regained their focus. I cocked my head curiously.

"What?" I queried, picking out sleep from my left tear duct.

I sat up carefully as I didn't want to wake my sleeping brother, my eyes studying my Dad's expression.

"You need to keep an eye on your brother for me. He's still weak and needs to rest," said Dad softly. "Can you make sure he does that for me?"

This was a pretty tall order to give to an eleven year old. My eyes widened, creating the puppy dog effect.

"Please don't go" I begged.

Dad looked away, looking defeated, but quickly regained his composure.

"I'm sorry Chris I have to," he said. "You'll be fine."

That was a phrase I had heard for years. Not matter how hard I would try, he would always leave me, regardless to anything.

"I really need you on this one darlin'. Dean needs you and so do I." he added gently, giving me a half smile.

I averted my eyes from him. Dad gently kissed me on the forehead and pushed himself off of the bed.

"I'll be back in a couple of days. Call me if there is an emergency, and make sure he rests and takes the two prescriptions the doctors left. The directions are on the bottle," Dad instructed. "You can handle that, right sweetheart?"

I guess I was gonna have to. Hell, I mastered using a freakin' can opener when I was four years old, which lead me to become an expert at working the stove by the time I was seven. Though reading medical instructions was gonna be new to me. I found myself sliding off the bed and traveling towards him, tears in my eyes. He couldn't leave, not after everything that had just happened.

"Please don't go Dad," I pleaded tearfully. "Please."

He grabbed my shoulders and looked me directly in the eye.

"You can do this Chrissie," he assured. "Dean needs you right now and this is important to …"

He paused, obviously unable to finish his sentence. Probably to chicken.

He then hugged me and with a final peck on the head, he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. After everything, and now he was leaving? Again? Tears welled in my eyes as I slumped onto the lumpy couch, hugging one of the cushions to my chest. Soft sobs began to tremble throughout my body, making my shoulders convulse.I glanced over at my brother, he was stirring from his sleep. He shifted and groaned in pain as he tried to sit up.

"Chris?" he croaked.

I silenced myself, I knew my blubbering would wake him up. Wiping my eyes with my shaking hands as he called my name again. I glanced in his direction, he was sitting up and obviously causing himself pain in doing so.

"Baby, what's the matter? You in pain?" Dean asked with a sense of urgency in his weakened voice.

I had been told that I couldn't lie to save myself, I have a guilty look on my face whenever I try. Still it doesn't stop me from trying every now and again.

"I'm fine" I mumbled.

My brother wasn't an idiot, he knew every single detail about me so it was always hard to lie to him. Not that I would choose to.

"What's the matter Chris?" Dean asked as gruffly as he could muster. "And where's Dad?"

"He's gone," she said in a small broken voice "Again"

My brother frowned as his gaze ventured over to me from across the room.

"Um what do you mean gone? Gone to the store, Gone to get food? Gone where?" he asked, to which I shrugged.

Ha, if only. I could wish that was real, knowing fully that our father had ditched us again.

"I don't know" I whispered brokenly.

What was so important that he had to leave again. Why couldn't he just stick around for at least five minutes.

"Come here" he said, motioning to himself.

Dammit, I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, blurring my vision. I got up and traveled towards him, my face crumpling. I then found myself being scooped into his arms.

"Shhh, why are you crying? He left, he's done it before, right? I always take care of you baby, don't you worry." Dean stated kissing the top of my head.

"I'm sorry," I wept "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry."

It only seemed right to blame myself for this whole situation, I mean technically it was all my fault.

"None of this is your fault. How could you say that?" he gently scolded, hugging me close.

"I let the demons in," I sniffled pathetically "You got yourself hurt trying to save me."

True words on my behalf, but I knew my brother thought differently on the situation.

"What!" Deans voice rose incredulously.

Here we go.

"Listen to me, and listen good." he added sternly, looking directly into my eyes. "I have never been more proud of you Christina Mary Winchester. You looked and acted like a hunter in there. If anything I should be thanking you for saving me."

I could only sniffle in reply to his statement. Things were getting mushy and sentimental now.

"Hey, enough of this," he admonished gently as he continued to hug me tightly, regardless to his pain. "You showed true Winchester talent and we are gonna perfect this talent of yours. You ready to really start training with me? No more kid stuff all right, the real deal."

I stopped being a kid years ago, it wouldn't make a difference to me really.

"Come on baby, you need your rest," he said. "Let's try and get some more sleep."

So many thoughts were racing through my head, training, like how Dad trained the boys? I honestly didn't know what to think. Dean really thought I was a natural, or was he just saying that? God, how was I gonna take care of him, he was already talking training. I gazed up at him. The concern in my eyes changed into determination.

"Dad told me I had to take care of you, so nobody's training anybody until you are one hundred percent healthy, you hear me Dean Winchester?" I said sternly, complete with the finger waggle to express myself.

The invalid dumbass just sat there, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I mean it!" I added seriously, not willing to fold, sitting up with my arms crossed. A no nonsense look adorning my face.

His expression hadn't changed.

"Well," I gawked. "You are going to stay right here and rest. I'm gonna go and get you some pain meds, and you are going to take them."

I tried to remain firm and I then remembered three little important words that I was convinced would seal the deal.

"That's an order" I added.

As I clambered onto the kitchenette countertop and reached for the highest cabinet to get a glass tumbler, I was aware that I was being watched.

"Chris!" Dean grumbled. "You are going to fall!"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes at his statement as I produced a glass tumbler, I jumped down from the countertop.

"I was able to open a can of beans when I was four," I stated. "I was also able to work the stove when I was seven. You learn all kinds of household skills when your left home alone a vast majority of the time."

Once the necessary supplies had been gathered I was once again was at my brother's bed side.

"Here take these, and then I want you to rest. Seriously, Dad said I was in charge" I smirked, knowing full well that those weren't Dad's exact words. Still I relished them as they exited my mouth.

My brother just gave me a look again.

"Look kid, I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I am still the adult and you are very much the child. I take care of you, end of discussion. But thanks for caring." he grinned swallowing the pills with the drink I had risked my neck to get him.

This discussion was so _not _over.

"Now, we, as you and me are going to get some rest. That is an order my dear." he replied as he relaxed back on the mattress.

I scowled at him, my arms folded. He wasn't winning again, I wanted some power at least.

"I'm in charge, I give the orders around here. Dad said, remember," I reminded him. "Ugh, you are so bossy!"

I could hear him chuckle as he closed his eyes. If he wasn't injured then I would have lobbed him with one of the pillows. This was gonna be a losing battle, I could tell. The old man wasn't gonna let me win. Then again, he never does. One of the reasons why he can be a thorn in my ass, that's big brothers for you. It sucks!

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	21. Target Practice

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for helping me with this chapter :)**

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I swung the door open with such a force, I thought it would come off it's hinges. Marching inside, a large rifle slung over my bony right shoulder, my feet stomping with each step as I traveled up the stairs.

"I can't do it!" I whined.

Target practice, once again, was a major failure on my behalf. Yet again, my hands continuously shook and my posture was wrong. My brother was two steps behind me, he seemed to think otherwise.

"Yes you can, you just need to push yourself kid," he said. "Focusing is half the battle."

I spun around, pausing on the stairs. Even at eleven years old, I was critical about myself and my performances at anything. This evening and my current failure had but me into a bad mood.

"I can't fire a gun to save myself," I complained loudly "I'm a crap shot."

Not with this rifle anyway, it was nearly bigger than me. No wonder things kept going wrong.

"Practice makes perfect, baby girl," said Dean. "Just stay on top of your game."

Moodily I marched into my temporary bedroom, slamming the door behind me, expressing my annoyance. I paced up and down the room, mumbling angrily to myself, before flopping onto my front on the lumpy bed. I buried my face into the pillow. Dean followed close by.

"Can I come in?" he asked, to which I didn't respond.

I wasn't in the mood for this crap, more so being lectured by my big brother.

"Come on Chris, snap out of it," came his voice. "You think your gonna shoot once and be a perfect shot? You may have my blood kid, but you have a lot to learn. You'll get there, you just need to be patient. Come on, stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Tell that to my brain.

"Dad's been teaching me how to fire weapons for a year already," I mumbled moodily "And I still can't get it right."

Probably never will my brain sneered.

"We'll keep working at it, you can't have this attitude though, that's got to change," Dean added. "The attitude stinks Chris, and truth, it's only gonna hold you back."

Huh, that was nice to know. I lifted my head from the pillow and curled onto my side, facing his direction. My eyes filled with doubt and insecurity as I glared at him.

"I can't do it!" I screamed, getting up from the bed, my hands clenched into trembling fists. "Just forget it, I'm obviously not like you, what happened with Kira was a fluke."

I kicked the foot of the bed angrily, venting all my repressed emotions before slumping onto the bed again, my head hanging. The emotions continued to bubble and boil away.

"I just can't do it," I confessed sadly, burying my head in my hands as the emotions began to overwhelm me. "It's too hard. And…"

My brother sat down next to me, studying my sorrowful expression with his concerned gaze.

"And what Chris?" he questioned.

Tears filled my eyes, threatening to overflow and spill down my cheeks. That would be the last thing I would need, it would make me even weaker than I already was.

"And," I continued, my voice wavering. "I don't want to disappoint you, or Dad. I'm never gonna be good enough for either of you."

Like the stupid baby that I was, I began to cry, throwing myself into my brother's arms.

"It's okay, Chrissie, you can do this," Dean cooed as he rubbed my back. "You should have seen me my first few years. Besides training is much different from taking a few shots with Dad."

I continued to weep like some over-grown toddler.

"Dean, I just want to be good at something. I should be able to make those shots, but it's hard when you make me do them over and over," I sniffled. "Then you go all Mr. Drill Sergeant on my ass. Why do you do that? I try, but I just can't do anything right."

I gazed up at him, tears streaming down my face. I bet I looked pathetic, well I felt pathetic so it wouldn't surprise me.

"This is for real Chris, you need to be ready, prepared for anything," Dean reminded me. "You can do it, you just have to push yourself. It's my job to push you. You need to trust me and trust yourself."

I choked on several sobs as my head lagged forward.

"You're right," I whispered. "I just don't know how to get better. I can't do more than I already am. I'm sorry."

Dean pulled away from me gently, forcing my chin upward so that we were eye to eye.

"That's why it's called training. It's hard on your body and your mind for a reason," he explained. "You are pressing your body passed it's limits to take it to another level. You are a natural hunter in so many ways, you just need to train to have the confidence and the stamina to survive in what we do."

He was right, yet my juvenile mind still was clouded in self doubt and angst.

"It's not a game Chris," my brother added seriously. "It's risk your life stuff, and I will under no circumstances put you out there for real without being able to protect yourself. But Chris you can do this, honey. I wouldn't set you up for failure. I promise."

Unlike Dad, Dean was able to keep his promises, so I knew that I could put my faith in him.

"I know Dean, I just don't think I'm ready anymore," I whispered. "Maybe we should just forget it for a while? Go back to the way things were before."

Ha. That statement had no hope in becoming a reality. The day I learned the truth spoiled all things normal for me. Then again, I never had the normal life, even before I knew the truth.

"No go kid," Dean replied shortly. "You are going to get your ass back out there tomorrow and try again, and if I have to get all drill sergeant on your ass again I will!"

I twisted my baseball cap front ways, tugging it down so it cast a shadow over my eyes, expressing my sad mood. I sighed, to which a tear fell down my cheek.

"Whatever Dean," I replied halfheartedly. "Stupid guns."

I removed myself from the embrace in order to curl up onto my side on the doughy mattress, my watering eyes focusing into space. Thankfully my pelvic wound had healed up in a matter of days, so it no longer caused me pain. Dad came back like he said, and I found moving away again. This time we were in Montana and just like always, Dad ventured off again. Anyways, I knew I was fighting a loosing battle, I didn't even know why I was even trying. Dean could be a hard ass when he wanted to be, and he obviously thought now would be as good a time as any. I rolled over and ignored him, hoping he would just leave me alone. I'm as stubborn as a mule most times.

"Go ahead and feel sorry for yourself," I heard my brother sigh. "This is happening Christina for every reason I have ever listed and more! It's too late to turn back."

After that statement was made, I heard my bedroom door close. Now I could have peace with my fragile and warped mind. Good times.

At around five o'clock in the morning, I woke up from my sleep. I got out of bed and yanked my hand-me-down clothes back on. Venturing over to my bedroom window, I opened it before making my way down the drainpipe, the rifle slung over my shoulder.

The drain pipe was weaker than I had anticipated, and it came away from the cabin wall, causing me to fall down alongside the damaged pipe. I landed awkwardly in a large bush with a thud.

"Owww" I groaned, as I clambered to my feet, brushing myself off.

I carefully picked up the rifle, giving the window a quick glance to make sure Mother Goose didn't hear the racket I had made. I was glad that I hadn't broke the rifle as that would get me into serious crap. Then again I would be in crap regardless since I was sneaking out.

I wandered off in order to find the entrance to the nearby woods, which was the location of my current target practice. Minutes later, I found the right spot. I could feel the scars on bark of several trees, caused by my wayward bullets, as I ran my hand over the mossy surface. Sighing, I then focused on my personal mission and began firing at the tree. My aim was on the bulls-eye target that had been carved into it's bark.

My hands kept shaking whenever I pulled the trigger, and my posture was never right to which I was constantly correcting myself. It was hard due to the lack of light, which made it difficult to see the angle I was shooting at. The sun was beginning to make an appearance, yet the moon was refusing to go away.

"C'mon dammit," I scolded myself crossly, after missing the target once again. "You can do this, it's in your blood remember."

The sound of a tree branch snapping caused me to freeze suddenly. I wasn't alone. Using my instincts, I crouched down low and crept cautiously behind one of the trees, the rifle still in my grasp. I knew it was a huge risk sneaking out alone, and now I was gonna suffer the consequences.

The footsteps get closer, coming from behind me. Quickly yet as swiftly as possible, I scurried away from the trees and hid underneath a wooden picnic table, were I waited in anticipation and dread. My grip on the rifle grew tighter as the footsteps came closer yet again. I was trapped, making sudden movements now would only give me away and I couldn't afford to do that.

A shadowy form was coming towards the picnic table. Was my mind playing tricks on me again or was this figure real. Would it be wise to shoot or not? I shifted my position under the table, to the point were I was half under the table, my fingers released the safety on the rifle, and waited on the trigger. A raucous shriek by a passing crow startled me, causing me to fire the gun, next came a surprised yelp allowing me to detect the figure's location. Like a cat, I pounced out and clomped the stranger across the head with the butt of my rifle.

The dark figure fell to the ground with a thump, followed by a groan. A very familiar groan. I froze again.

"Uh oh," I moaned. "I'm in so much trouble."

The figure laying on the ground, half concussed continued to whine in pain.

"Dean?" I asked, nudging the form slightly with my foot. "Dean is that you?"

I waited for my reply to my question. If it was him, I was gonna be in so much crap.

"What the hell Chris!" came the annoyed grunt.

Ah nuts! It _was _him. Perfect, how was I gonna explain myself this time. All I can say is, I'm glad it wasn't Dad.

"Uh, I was practicing my technique…sir" I gabbled in reply, clutching the rifle to my chest as I quaked in my scuffed boots.

Using the word sir was for added effect, in hope that it would lessen the wrath of fury from my big brother. Then again, probably not. Dean sat up, holding his head. It may have still been dark but there was enough light from the sun coming up. From the look on his face I knew that I was in deep shit.

"I'm so sorry," I gulped nervously, backing away slightly. "I know it was dangerous, and I'm sorry that I hit you, but it was something that I really needed to do Dean, I'm so sorry."

Man, I really wanted to beat myself up with my rifle, that way no one else will get the privilege in doing so.

"You're not gonna belt me are you?" I asked. "Whenever I mess up, Dad takes his belt to me. If you do, make it quick."

My brother crouched down on his haunches, leveling himself with me as he took the rifle out of my hands.

"Chris, why would I do that? I'm not Dad," he said. "I have no intention of taking my belt to you. Ground you for doing something dangerous, yes, but _belt _you, of course not."

I sighed, hanging my head in shame, my baseball cap twisted to the right side expressing my frustration and anger. You could say that my baseball cap was like my own unique mood ring, as each position reflected my moods.

"But I deserve it" I stated in a matter of fact tone.

I broke the rules so therefore I deserved punishment. It was the strongest moral I was raised on growing up, if you did something wrong then you get a smack. At least, that was the case in Dad's rule book.

"I'm not gonna lie, what you did was dangerous and stupid," admitted my brother. cupping my chin, he forced me to look at him. "You know not to leave without telling me, forget about the fact it was the middle of the night. What if it wasn't me who found you? You know better than that Chrissie."

I looked up at my big brother and nodded. I then turned and started to walk back to the house. Dean's strides caught up to mine in no time, and he put an arm around me and squeezed.

"Grounded, huh" I said softly, as I scuffed my feet as we walked in time with each other.

"Yup" was Dean's only reply.

I sighed again. Ah well, I knew that was gonna be the end result. Next time it would be wise to go unnoticed. I should be so lucky.

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	22. Second Nature

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for her great help with this chapter :)**

**This chapter is going to be told from Dean's POV**

**Warning, it contains smacking and use of bad language.**

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Despite of what she believed about herself, the kid was a born natural. Even though she was a little shaky and of centre, I could tell she was gonna have a perfect aim when it came to firing weapons. Her Houdini trick near enough scared the crap outta me, I thought something had snatched her out of her bed yet she had sneaked out for early morning target practice. I would have been stupid not to have grounded her for the stunt she pulled.

That night, whilst we were asleep, a noise downstairs startled me awake. Cautiously, I crept down each step with a loaded handgun poised in my hands. Unintelligible ramblings drifted from the lounge area of the abandoned house we were squatting in. Peering round the door frame, I could make out a figure, who was laying on the couch in a sloppy manner. Dirty clothes and disheveled hair, complete with the overpowering smell of hard liquor, there was no doubt about it.

"Dad" I muttered, wandering forward.

I lowered my gun as Dad clambered to his feet lazily. Dad blinked at me, a dazed expression in his bloodshot eyes as I tucked the gun under my shirt near the small of my back. He slugged past me, heading in the direction of the stairs. I stopped him.

"Dad you need to crash here. You need anything you call, I don't want you near either of us tonight," I said. "We'll talk in the morning."

For the past eleven years, seeing my Dad in a drunken state is nothing new to me. Dad ignored me and continued to make his way towards the stairs.

"Dad, seriously, your gonna wake Chris and the last thing she needs is to see you like this," I stated. "You know it scares her."

Dad paused, before inching closer towards me. My words clearly had pissed him off. He glowered at me with angry eyes.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" Dad bellowed. "You have no right to tell me what to do, the only acceptable words out of your mouth are; _yes sir _and _no sir._"

His vice like fingers gripped onto my chin, his face inches away from my own.

"Dad, please" I warned.

The last thing I wanted was for her to see this. It always upset her and just caused more unnecessary tension between her and Dad. I was trying so hard to protect her from another drunken Dad outburst, for she had witnessed enough of them already.

"Stop!" a smaller voice shrieked. "Let him go you asshole! Why do you have to come back!"

My gaze followed the voice and tracked down it's location and it's owner. It was the kid, standing half way down the stairs, her hair scruffy, and dressed in her Pokemon nightdress and thick grey socks. She trampled down the stairs before confronting Dad herself, anger in her eyes. She had relived this scene over and over again and it never got any easier for her. Dad looked down at her, his fingers still crushing my chin, I just wished she had stayed asleep upstairs.

"Baby girl, why you talkin to your Daddy that way?" Dad asked, his voice slurred.

I roughly pushed my father away, determined not to let him touch Chris in any way. I could protect her from all of the monsters and creatures in the world, but I couldn't always protect her from our father, especially when he was drunk. Dad moved towards her, however she backed away and hid behind me. It reminded me when she was a toddler and wary of strangers.

"You promised you won't do this again! You are a liar!" she yelled. "Get away from me! Get away from us!"

Neither of us predicted Dad's reaction to the situation. Dad glowered at her before grabbing hold of her wrist and yanking her towards him. Chris yelped in surprise, as she struggled vainly against Dad.

"Lemme go!" she squealed, tugging at her trapped arm.

Dad continued to glare at her, his bloodshot eyes blinked at her as his grip tightened. Clearly he was pissed at her tone towards him. Yet at this moment I couldn't blame her for being angry with Dad.

"Listen up little girl, I don't like your tone, you seem to be taking lessons from your dear old brother here," he slurred. He shot me a glance before returning to her. "I have news for you young lady, I am your father and you will respect me. Maybe you need a little reminder to reinforce what I expect."

I hated his tone. It was intimidating and dangerous, not the best thing to broadcast in front of your eleven year old daughter. Suddenly the sound of a harsh and brutal backhanded slap caught us both off guard.

It was hard enough to knock Chris back on her heels, forcing her to loose her balance.

"I hate you!" she screamed, hurt and confusion lacing her voice as she glared at him. "Why do you do this? I don't understand?"

Chris collapsed in a heap on the floor, sobbing and holding a hand to her cheek. I was stunned, unable to move, or to understand the events that are unfolding before me. Sure, this had happened before, but it always started and ended the same. This was different. I had never seen such rage in my little sister's eyes before. I had never seen her lose control like that before. It scared me.

Chris got up and ran towards the tiny bathroom under the stairs in tears, locking the door behind her.

I looked from the door to Dad, still trying to understand what had just happened. I knew one thing, Dad had hit my Chris. Dad had hit Chris because he was drunk. This is one thing I couldn't tolerate. I never interfered if Dad was punishing her, but this was abuse. Anger boiled inside of me, causing me to lunge at him.

"Don't you ever touch her like that again!" I raged, shoving at him in the direction of the front door. "Get the fuck out!"

With one final push out the door, I slammed in straight in his face before bolting it shut with the lock. I then ventured over to the bathroom under the stairs, and with the back of my hand I rapped gently on the wooden paneled door with my knuckles. The kid was sobbing.

"Chris, he's gone. It's gonna be all right," I said, resting my forehead against the wood as waited. "C'mon sweetheart, it's safe, I promise."

The door unlocked and Chris peered out nervously. A red hand print very visible on her right cheek, tears streamed down her freckled face. Her expression broke my heart.

I reached out and pulled her into a fierce hug. She latched on to me like a koala bear, crying hard into my chest. Scooping her up in my arms, I brought her into the lounge. Settling her down in my lap as I sat down on the couch, I rubbed circles on her back, like I did when she was little. Even at eleven she still easily fit into my lap. I whispered soothing words in her ear.

As I rocked her back and forth, I kissed the top of her head, waiting patiently until she felt safe. I had been through this part before. Normally I would let her calm down and then I would put her to bed, and we would talk on her terms in the morning. Yet this time was different, we were gonna to have to discuss the anger she was feeling. The anger in her eyes had seriously struck a nerve with me. I needed to find out how bad it really was.

"I hate him!" Chris sobbed, continuing to repeat the phrase over and over again. "I hate him! I hate him!"

What could I say, at this moment I hated him too. I hated him for what he did to my sister, I hated him for drinking, I hated him for what he did to Sam, for what he did to our family. I gazed sadly at the little girl in my arms. Rocking her and rubbed circles on her back, allowing her to let it out was the only comfort I could give at that moment. Finally, she pulled away and I could see the bright crimson hand print that scorched her right cheek. Gently, I put my hand to her face, shocked by how hot is was to the touch. Concerned about bruising I began the tedious process of getting my little sister off of my lap. She was still not in the best state of mind, but getting ice on her face was more important right now. The swelling needed to be kept down and therefore the chances of bruising would be minimum. As she touched the ground with her sock clad feet, she gazed at me as I leveled myself with her once I returned to her with an ice pack.

"Your face needs ice," I told her. "I don't want you to bruise."

Chris winced once the ice pack came into contact with her burning cheek, her green eyes expressed a mixture of sorrow and confusion as she choked on several sobs. It was a signal for me to bring her into an embrace once again. She sunk into my arms once more. In her mind, I was the equivalent of safe. I was her protector, and her teacher. Since the age of twelve I had been more of a father to her than our own.

The kid had always expressed such strong loyalty and respect towards Sam and I, you won't have believed that such emotions would come out of somebody so young.

"I don't mean to annoy him" she mumbled into my flannel t-shirt, before pulling away slightly and gazing up so that we made eye contact.

Behind the maturity and stubbornness in her eyes, I could see her long lost innocence and naivety. I cupped her face gently, aware of her scarlet cheek, my thumbs swatted away the tears that continued to drip from her green eyes.

"Hey," I chided. "Don't you say that. You didn't say or do anything. He was drunk, end of story. You hear me?"

Chris looked away sadly, doubt in her watering eyes as she wiped her nose with the back of her free hand.

"It's when he's sober that scares me," she said. "He doesn't need a drink then. It's second nature to me now."

"It shouldn't be" I replied.

My brain boiled with anger. Dad had managed to pollute her mind. Just what the hell had he done to her? I only hoped that Chris would fall asleep soon.

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	23. Mother Goose Takes Centre Stage

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for her help with this chapter!**

**Warning: contains some use of bad language**

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_**Dean's POV**_

Dad had made me nervous on several occasions but after his actions towards Chris, it made me livid, she was just a kid. I mean, look how I turned out. I was now getting more worried about Chris. More so than usual. Anger like that just doesn't show up like that, especially in someone so young. She is only eleven years old for Christ sake. Every single member of this family seems to have a bad temper that tends to repress itself before exploding in furious rage. Looks like Chris has inherited the same curse.

Hours later, the sun rose and it was morning again. Chris musta been the first one up as I could hear her humming that damn theme tune to that stupid Japanese anime show. You know the one with all those weird alien things in the red balls and get captured by some spiky haired kid and his friends. I'd choose Sesame Street and Wishbone over that crap, alongside that dumb show about some sponge and his retarded starfish friend. It's a phase I keep reminding myself, and I hope to God it is.

I watch her as I sit up, she hadn't noticed me waking up. The kid sat on the kitchenette countertop, swinging her bare legs absentmindedly as she was lost in her thoughts. I can't imagine the amount of crap the poor kid has to deal with, and the incident with Dad would have only increased her mental suffering even more.

"Hey," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "How are you feeling this morning?"

The kid looked exhausted, her usual bright green eyes seemed as dull as her mood. She stopped swinging her legs on hearing my voice.

"Fine" she replied, keeping her head down.

I sighed as I climbed out of bed. She wasn't fine, that much I knew. After crying herself to sleep, I doubt she would be all smiles in the morning. I ventured towards her.

"You sure?" I said before commanding softly. "Lemme see your face."

This was looking more like a day from hell if you asked me. She glanced up at me briefly, before hanging her head again.

I inched closer, taking her face in my hands. Anger boiled my blood as I took in the sight before me. The right side of her face had turned a slight shade of purple, but also the force of my Dad's strength had given her a black eye. How was I going to have a conversation with her about her anger, when my anger was barely under control. She watched me as I fumbled about in order to create an ice pack for her bruised face.

"C'mere baby," I said gently, once I returned. "Let's put a cool cloth on it, it will feel a little better. You want some Motrin, it should help with the pain a bit."

I grimaced as I put the cloth against her eye. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she flinched as the cloth came into contact with her skin. Chris winced, and turned her face away.

"Here, hold the cloth on your face, I'm gonna get you some Motrin," I instructed her. "Then I'm gonna get us some breakfast, and we can see about a little more target practice."

I hoped adding some structure to the day would help my sister put her head on straight. My little discussion with her would have to wait until we were both in the mind set. For now we could both use an outlet to get rid of our anger, and training would be it. I also hoped to God our father didn't show up until they were gone, as I don't think either of us could handle it at this moment. Without saying a word, Chris held the cloth to her face as she slid off the countertop, her eyes shining with internal sadness.

Later that day, Chris hadn't spoken a word since the morning. We returned from training and she simply entered the motel room and sat quietly on the moth-eaten couch.

"Hey you did good today," I said to her encouragingly. "Even though I know your head wasn't in it."

We had only had a few rounds of target practice before I suggested we go for a run. I could tell it helped, and after a few more rounds with the rifles, I opted to call it a day. Chrissie looked calmer and maybe now was the best time to approach the subject of her anger.

"Chris, can we talk for a minute," I began, sitting down next to her. "I need to ask you something."

The kid kept her head down, her legs hung over the couch, feet not even touching the floor.

"What?" she asked simply.

How was I gonna approach this without setting her off. The kid is like a firework of emotions and the wrong attitude and words can trigger an explosion. I looked at her.

"I know Dad was drunk last night, and you were scared, but something else bothered me. You got so angry. I was so worried when you lost control," I said before enquiring softly. "What happened baby?"

Chris shrugged, her head still down.

"Why should it bother you?" she questioned seriously, her hands clasped together as she brooded.

"Because I was worried about you, I have never in my life seen anger pour out of you like that," I replied. "It was like you had no control, and Chris that part worries me, a lot."

I frowned. That kinda anger could get her into trouble in more ways than one if she couldn't learn to control it. Chrissie briefly looked up at me.

"Dad lies, all the time. About everything," she mumbled sorrowfully, returning her gaze back to her hands. "He probably wishes that the demons had taken me away for good. That way he wouldn't have to deal with me anymore."

The kid had always been too mature for her age and this statement confirmed that her mental state was worse than I thought. How polluted was her mind? God knows! She is only eleven years old. No kid should think that way. I took a deep breathe as my full attention was fixed on my miserable little sister.

"That's so not true and you know it," I stated. "Look, Dad is no father of the year, but he does do the best he can, sometimes his best down right sucks, but he loves you. I'm not sticking up for him. What he did last night was completely unforgivable. But he needs to deal with that."

The kid didn't respond, allowing me to continue.

"I'm not saying that you have to forgive him Chris, but you need to figure out the anger part," I added. "It's okay to be angry, but it's not okay to loose control."

It felt good getting what I had to say off of my chest, I just hoped Chrissie was listening. She sighed heavily whilst raising her head, finally deciding to look at me.

"It just came out. Now look what happened," confessed the kid in a matter of fact tone, indicating her bruised face. "I can only blame myself."

"No, were you even listening to me?" I replied sternly. "Dad had no right to hit you the way he did. I'm just saying he does love you. None of this is your fault. Don't you ever think like that. You hear me?"

Chris shrugged again, her eyes dull with misery. She hopped from the couch and ventured over to the window. Her eyes widened as she stared out the window, as she backed away slowly.

"Chris? What's the matter?" I asked with a frown.

Suddenly, Dad walked into the room. Aw fuck! Please be sober, I can't deal with another drunken outburst. Not again. Thankfully, he was stone cold sober. He studied Chrissie, first noticing her behaviour, then noticing the bruises that decorated the right side of her face. He went towards her but she backed away, fear and hate in her eyes as she glared at him.

"I'm so sorry baby, I should have never come home like that. I can't believe I did that to you," he apologized. "Are you in pain?"

What do you think Dad? Do you really think that your little girl is gonna completely forgive you over night, after you clomped her across the face?

Seriously? Dad glanced over at me nervously.

"Just stay away from her Dad," I stated shortly, my arms folded as I guarded my sister from our father. "You are not helping here."

I was determined to protect my little sister. Looking at Chris, Dad went towards her again, but she sat on the bed, still glaring sharp daggers at him.

Guilt was clearly etched on Dad's face, whilst Chris sat motionless, not letting Dad get the best of her. Her hands curled into tight fists as she bit her lip, her head lagging forward.

"I don't wanna to talk to you Dad. I don't wanna to see you. You hurt me in so many ways," she said, before raising her head and confronting Dad with her large eyes. "Dean said none of this is my fault, but I still feel like it is, and looking at you right now, its making me feel worse."

Her temper was even, and she took a deep breath once she had said her peace. She looked away from him. Dad inched closer and closer to her, causing her to tremble with both sorrow and anger.

"Please, don't come any closer" pleaded the kid.

No. I wasn't risking anything, so I shielded her from Dad, cutting off his access to her.

"She asked you nicely to keep away from her Dad" I cautioned dangerously.

Dad stopped, an expression of complete guilt and sadness on his face. Damn right he should be sorry. What kind of father hits his own kid. Hell, I've been his punching bag on several occasions over the past eleven years, but I will not have Chris suffer that fate too.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry for what I did last night, I'm sorry I make you live the life you do, I'm just sorry."

Chris rose up, edging her way past my protective shield that guarded her. Suddenly, she pounced at Dad, hitting him on the chest with her fists, anger threatening to boil over.

"Why?" she demanded. "I ask you why?"

Dad stood there speechless, letting his youngest child beat on him with her small fists.

"I don't have an easy answer Christina. I'm sorry but I don't," he answered. "I don't know what to say."

This was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Chris was getting more and more upset with Dad and herself with each punch she delivered. Desperate, I tried to pull her away from him but it was like holding a bar of soap. Reminded me also of the tantrums she used to pull when she was two. This was worse though.

"I hate you, you don't really love me!" she screamed. "Why don't you love me? Why am I never good enough."

She thrashed about as I yanked her away, her skinny limbs striking out for contact.

"No!" Chrissie roared, her eyes swimming with tears. "Lemme go!"

"No!" I replied gruffly, trying vainly to keep hold of her. "Your safe, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

I shot Dad daggers as I continued my battle with Chris. It was one thing for my sister to let out her frustration, but I would be damned if I let her loose control again. Too late.

Defeated she fell to her knees, taking me down with her. A distraught howl ripped from her throat as she broke down. Unable to handle what was happening before him, Dad left the room. Chris prized herself out of my grip and collapsed onto the bed, smothering her face into the pillow, causing her baseball cap to go squint slightly. I immediately ventured to her bedside, rubbing circles on her back as she wept.

"Come on, he's gone," I said gently. "You said what you had to say."

I had no words to offer to make the hurt go away. She needed to grieve. Grieve for her lost relationship with Dad. This vulnerable little girl was my total responsibility now. I suppose I've always known, since the age of twelve, but this moment kinda set it in stone. Minutes pass and the sobs turn into soft sniffles. Man, the kid really knows how to break my heart. It was torture to see her suffering.

"I'm sorry" she croaked as she turned on her side, her streaming eyes fixed with mine.

Leaning forward in my crouched position, I cupped the side of her face, swatting away the escaping tears with my thumb. I felt like a broken record.

"Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for," I said. "I'm just sorry I can't make it better for you. Everything will be okay. I think everyone just needs some space right now, it's been a tough couple of days."

Taking charge of the situation would be in everyone's best interest I came to realize, I was determined to get my sister back on track, with or without Dad's support. Several more minutes past, and Chris had managed to settle down once more. Now was the opportunity to confront my Dad outside.

I found Dad leaning against his truck, looking sorry for himself. Damn right he should be sorry. Storming over to him, I grabbed his shirt and rammed him against his truck.

"Why can't you just let it be Dad?" I said furiously. "Did you see what you did to her face? She is hurt and confused and angry!"

Dad, once again, was lost for words. Typically, whenever something troublesome crops up he tries to hide away from it, and usually it involves alcohol. Dad took hold of my wrists.

"Son, please" he implored, his eyes searching for forgiveness.

Hell, he wasn't getting any from me.

"This can't be fixed with a couple of hugs and an ice cream cone Dad," I spat back. "I want you to stay away from her right now. She doesn't need you right now, I've got it."

Dad just stared at me as I released my grip from his shirt. My scowl refused to go away.

"You don't think I try with her?" asked Dad.

Ha. That had got to be a joke. How can he try, when he is never around to spend time with her. No wonder the kid feels rejected.

"No," I replied shortly, causing Dad to sigh. "You gave up completely with her the second Sam left. She knows it, she's not stupid you know. She thinks you don't love her. For fuck sake, it's tearing her apart!"

Dad glared at me once Sam's name was mentioned.

"What? I'm telling you the truth," I hissed. "You haven't been a father to her for months, hell years is probably more accurate. What were you thinking hitting her last night? That was child abuse, Dad!"

To hell with this shit, I'm done. I turned to leave, unable to continue with the conversation. Dad wasn't though, he yanked me back once he clamped a hand on my shoulder, which then caused me to punch him straight in the mouth.

"Feel Better?" Dad asked, his bottom lip split and bleeding slightly.

I kept my mouth shut. Nothing more needed to be said. I was done with this crap. For Chris's sake, I couldn't have him around. Without saying a word to him, I returned to the motel room and locked the door before he had the chance to follow. Hopefully he would get the message. Dad has risked Chris's health and well being for the last time. Then, I heard the sound of his truck starting up and within seconds, I could hear him driving away. My gaze ventured over to the sleeping little girl, _my _little girl, on the bed.

I went to her bedside and watched her sleep, just like I used to when she was small. After removing her old baseball cap, I ran my fingers through her brown waves. She wriggled slightly, a small frown on her face yet I knew she had found peace within her dreams, whatever the dreams were. Probably it involved that damn Japanese show or some other weird shit. God knows.

"I got your back Chrissie," I hushed, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I'm not gonna let you down. I promise."

Man, all this crap had given me a headache. Perfect way to end a brilliant day. If you don't understand the sarcasm, then you're a moron.

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**Hope everybody had a good Christmas! I received two gifts from Santa that made me VERY happy, a Supernatural poster and calender. Now I have a chance to gawk and drool over the boys daily.**

**Also, a Happy New Year! Just think of me when you are all singing the Scottish classic, Auld Lang Syne. Cheers pals! **

**Please review, or else Chris and Dean will be pissed**


	24. Ten Reasons Why I Hate School

**Okay, this chapter might be a little short and maybe a tad bit weak in quality but I needed to post this. It's currently 2.32am in Fife, Scotland and I need my bed since I've had a busy day.**

**Good news for Supernatural! The show was awarded two People's Choice Awards, for Favourite Drama and Sci fi/Fantasy, beating Vampire Diaries. *fanfare and confetti parade* About bloody time too!**

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There are ten reasons why I hate school. One, it's the fact you have to get up early everyday to get to the damn place. Two, is that it's so repetitive and boring. Three, the food sucks. Four, is that the day moves so slowly to the point you wanna dive out of a high window. Five, gym class is like ethnic cleansing if your different in anyway. Six, it ain't Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and if it was, things would be more fun and interesting. Seven, the lockers stink of something that a skunk would spray from it's butt. Eight, your not allowed to wear hats in class which is really annoying. Nine, the teachers are a constant pain in my neck who bleat and scold me relentlessly. Finally, number ten, the other kids. I'm so socially awkward and weird looking, which obviously makes me a target for bullies.

Ha, bullies. I've been battling with bullies and mean kids since I started kindergarten back when I was five years old. I ain't afraid to stand up for myself. Ignoring them isn't always the best strategy as it gets tiring after a while, to the point when you can help but lash out. It happens with me all the time.

My genius brother thought it would be good to send me to school after the whole incident involving Dad, a way of distracting me. Frankly, I hated the idea. The school building was modern and clean looking, populated by gaggles of kids wearing the latest fashions and trends. Now I felt an even bigger outsider compared to these rich kids.

"I'm such an alien" I complained, clutching my old duffle bag close to my chest as I peered out the Impala window.

My brother chuckled at my remark, thinking my misery was amusing. I continued to sulk.

"You don't look like an alien, you look like my little sister," he replied with an eye roll. "C'mon you'll do fine. I see you at three, okay?"

Fine, whatever. With a curt nod, I exited the car moodily. Last time I was at a school was a month ago, resulting in me coming into contact with a demonic kid who pushed me off the school roof. It still amazed me how I survived with only a brief concussion and not a broken neck.

The journey to the main office was awful, as the eyes from the other kids scanned me in distaste as if I was some foreign object.

After a brief introduction with my no nonsense teacher, Ms Williams, I had to abandon my baseball cap within the foul locker I was bestowed. The class I was placed in was no better, after explaining myself to the other kids, I could hearing comments and snickering floating around the dull and depressing atmosphere. Ignoring the criticisms about my upbringing and appearance, I slumped into my chair, propping my arms onto my allocated desk.

Class droned on slowly, to the point I wanted to smack my face repeatedly off the desk, or the two girls behind me for that matter. Whilst Ms Williams lectured us on how to solve some math problem, I could hear them giggling about me.

"Do you see that rat's nest she calls hair?" commented the first sugary sweet voice, her tone laced with spitefulness. "You think with all the stores they have now, she could find some clean clothes without holes or tears."

My fingers curled around my pencil, threatening to snap it as my knuckles flushed chalk white.

"You think she ever heard of a brush," remarked her bitchy comrade, her tone just as nasty. "Or a shower for that matter?"

The pair spluttered with muffled laughter as I briefly glanced over my shoulder at them, giving them my famous scowl to which they sniggered again.

Lunchtime was no better. As usual, I isolated myself by finding a quiet spot in the school yard, which was between part of the walls in the front entrance of the school building. As I kicked at the masonry brick work, I heard laughter and chatter coming in my direction. It was the two girls in my sixth grade class, the curly blonde haired one holding a can of soda in her right hand. The girl with jet black hair narrowed her gray eyes at me, clearly turning her nose up at me.

"Where did you come from anywhere, a dumpster?" asked the blonde cruelly.

"Yeah, just go back to where you came from," added the raven haired bully. "You don't exactly fit in here, in case you hadn't noticed."

I don't wanna be here anyway, I could only roll my eyes in an attempt to shrug them off. Scoffing, I ventured through the gap between the walls and ventured out into the open and away from the two girls. Man, I really hated this school. I had just spent the last few hours being mocked and looked down upon by my teacher and fellow students.

Removing my baseball cap I scratched the back of my head only to freeze when a sudden torrent of soda poured onto my scalp, drenching my hair and shirt collar.

"Hey Alyssa, do you think if I keep doing this she'll grow any bigger?" cackled the blonde haired girl as she continued to tip the content of her soda can onto my head. "She could use with a shower too."

The scowl on my face returned as I stood under the down pour, picking my moment to react.

"Oh Clara you are cruel," tittered Alyssa, swooping her gold curls over her shoulder like some pop diva. "But that's what makes it all the more hysterical."

The bitches just laughed once they tossed the soda can away, pointing and shrieking at me. Swallowing, I placed my baseball cap back on, twisting it to the left side. Hell was gonna break lose. I am the pre teen Hulk.

Alyssa squawked in surprise as I dived at Clara, yanking her hair as I tackled her to the ground. Clara squealed in protest and outrage as her perfect pink blouse was getting smeared with grass and mud stains, her raven plaits coming undone as I tugged at them. Alyssa tried to defend her fellow bully, screaming at me whilst attempting to prize me off Clara as we wrestled on the grass. I was not losing this battle, I could take them. Victory was in my clutches, that is until the ogress Ms Williams stormed onto the scene which ruined everything.

A three day suspension was my punishment for fighting. In my defense I didn't start it, because I don't recall dumping _Mountain Dew _on my head. Yet, nobody believed me. Why would they, I'm a kid from a small poor dysfunctional family with behavioral problems, so why should the adults believe me. My own brother even had his doubts when I was interrogated by him once arriving back at the motel.

"What the hell Christina?" Dean yelled abruptly, glaring down at me. "One day, you couldn't last one day."

Aw hell, now I was gonna get it. I never ask to get picked on. Frightened, I kept my head down yet that did little good.

"Look at me dammit!" he shouted, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. "What am I supposed to do with you Chris?"

Dunno, military school might work.

My puppy dog eyes and explanation then rewarded me with a comforting hug from my brother and a gentle scold about how fighting doesn't get you anywhere, how it only leads to more trouble and that you can hurt yourself and others. Stuff I've been told for over six years, time after time. Leopards can't change its spots as the saying goes. The main factor about why I hate school so much, I just hate being the outsider. I hate being alone.

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	25. The Legend of Baba Yaga Part 1

**Thanks to Alyssa Ray once again for her help. Also to my readers, thanks for reviewing and sticking with me. **

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_**Chris's POV**_

The silver moon had risen into the star ridden sky, the long lonely road ahead was dark as my brother drove through the thick woodland. The woods reminded me of the illustrations in my Brothers Grimm fairytale book, mysterious yet shrouded with natural beauty. Misty fog drifted through the ancient trees, creating a horror movie atmosphere.

"Why did you take the short cut?" I asked my brother as I peered out the front passenger window, gazing between the spooky looking forest to the night sky.

"Because it's a shot cut, it's just taking a little longer," he replied with a slight smirk, his attention on the road ahead. "Besides, it's the scenic route."

I raised an eyebrow as I turned my gaze at him. Oh yeah very scenic, counting that the sun was gone and its freezing cold outside, typical weather in the northeastern part of the United States.

"It's night time stupid," I said whilst removing my baseball cap, giving my brown hair a quick ruffle. "You can't see anything."

Sighing, I clamped my cap back on my head, twisting the tongue at a right angle. A yawn escaped my mouth as I did so.

"Get some sleep, I'll wake you up when we get there" said Dean, in an attempt to silence me.

"I'm not tired" I answered, rubbing my eyes with my right hand.

My brother gave me a quick _yeah right _expression, causing me to roll my eyes at him. Not wanting to argue with him I simply tucked my legs up and huddled into my red hooded sweater, my eyes succumbing to fatigue.

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_**Dean's POV**_

Finally the kid was asleep. She had been holding it in for hours and now she had managed to give into herself and let her brain rest. I glanced at her now and again as I continued to drive through the forest, when suddenly a dark figure darted out in front of the car.

"What the hell!" I cursed, swerving to avoid whatever it was, causing the kid to wake up in the process.

The car lurched forward, colliding with an oak tree. Chris moved in unison with sudden movement, cracking her forehead on the dashboard. Everything halted, smoke rose from the hood of my Impala.

"Shit!" I cursed, wincing slightly as I shifted in my position.

Chris let out a moan as a grimace washed across her face, her head lagging forward.

"Baby, you okay?" I asked, trying to reach out to her "Are you hurt?"

She continued to whine in pain, bringing a shaking hand to her bruised forehead.

"Your head? Does it hurt bad?" I inquired, to which she shook her head whilst blinking rapidly like a camera lens. "I wish I had some ice for you. Ya think you're gonna be okay?"

The kid sat up slowly before wincing, adjusting her baseball cap to the right angle again.

"I'll be fine," she replied with a grunt, dusting herself off. "What the hell happened anyway?"

I gave her an unsure glance. The kid always looked to me for answers to everything, she had been doing so ever since she could talk.

"Don't know, something pretty big came into the middle of the road and I swerved to miss it," I answered. "We hit the tree instead of whatever it was."

Frowning in discomfort, she peered out the window in order to scan for the identity of what made us crash.

"Was it an animal?" she asked curiously as she gazed out the window, her back facing me.

I shrugged in response. What am I? Google? I don't have the answers to everything.

"I'm not sure, but whatever it was, it was pretty big," I answered. "I want you to stay in the car while I go check the damage. _Stay _here."

It's like dealing with a disobedient puppy most times when Chris is involved. Thankfully she isn't hyperactive anymore, her battery died out two years ago.

Opening the car door, we picked up the sound of rustling bushes and the howling wind. A scraping sound followed. I closed the door again.

"What's that noise?" asked Chris, a worried expression in her green eyes which made her appear innocent again.

The scraping could still be heard, getting closer and closer, the wind screaming loudly.

"Get in the backseat," I instructed my little sister, to which she nodded and slowly clambered into the back of the car. "Stay down and stay hidden. Understand?"

Peeking up from her hiding position, Chris nodded. The fear in her eyes couldn't be ignored.

"Uh huh" she answered, trembling with worry.

Cautiously I climbed out the car. The damage to my car was minor thankfully. The noises got louder as I traveled towards the trunk of the car. A loud thumping sound joined into the chorus of wailing wind and scraping. A shiver went up my spine, and when I spun around I came into contact with the face of a wrinkled hag with long gray hair. Without warning she clubbed me across the head with a large stone bat. The last thing I heard was Chris screaming my name.

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_**Chris's POV**_

My God! What the hell was that thing! What did it do to my brother! The creature ventured forward, hopping out of something, her black cape swooping behind her. Next thing I knew was that I was being dragged out of the car, kicking and screaming. No matter how hard I tried, I could not escape from this ugly hag.

Then I saw it. A large mortar made of stone, decorated with moss, and beside it was a huge pestle. No. It was just a Russian legend. She couldn't be real. There was no such thing as Baba Yaga. It was a story. With a final swoop of her cloak, I was plunged into darkness.

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**Enter the new storyline, the russian folktale of the infamous Baba Yaga. **

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	26. The Legend of Baba Yaga Part 2

_**Thanks to all who have reviewed and favourited so far. You guys make my day. A shout out to Alyssa Ray for aiding me with this chapter.**_

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_**Dean's POV**_

My head was killing me, as if I had been bludgeoned by a heavy baseball bat. I can sense blood oozing down my forehead, my wrists and ankles in equal amounts of discomfort. Then I realize something, I'm tied up against an cage, my limbs strained due to friction given off by thick industrial rope. Awesome.

"What the hell?" I gasped, attempting to free myself from the ropes with futile tugs and pulls. Oh Shit! I gazed around more as I regained my senses before calling out. "Chris? Chrissie!"

Where was my little sister? What the hell was going on? Bones and blood decorated the walls, the stench of rotting meat drifted around in the air. I wanted to hurl cos the stink was so bad. The wind howled outside as I could hear the creaking of footsteps against the ancient floor boards. I tried the ropes again but they wouldn't budge. Where was my little sister?

Suddenly I encountered by far the ugliest hag I have ever seen. She slowly hobbled over towards me, her hair hanging like dripping seaweed and her nose resembled that of Mr. Burns from _The Simpsons. _Her amber eyes wandered each area of my face and body. Oh God, it appeared that I was being eye-fucked by the old hag, who had tilted her head at me in curiosity. Okay, now I'm gonna hurl.

"Where is my sister you old bag?" I demanded, swallowing down a wave of nausea.

The hag said nothing and continued to inch closer and closer towards me, a sadistic smirk exposing her iron teeth. She produced a rusty blade from the folds of her inky black cloak as a chuckle escaped her lips.

"I asked you a question bitch! Where. Is. My. Sister?" I yelled, pulling at my restraints in frustration. Nothing better happen to her, you hear me?"

A boney hand race across my face, almost tickling me under the chin as if I was some toddler. If she got any closer I would've bit her. The end of the blade poised itself at the location of my heart.

"Look, you can do what you want with me," I said in frustration. "But you gotta let me see my sister?"

The tarnished tip of the once silver blade suddenly ripped down my chest, tearing at my t-shirt and drawing blood. Holding back a wince, I continued to glare at the hag in front of me.

"Your sister's dead" announced the crone with a wheezy laugh, showing off her iron teeth.

I blinked, shock overcoming my body. _No, she couldn't be Dean _I told myself. I would feel it, in my soul.

"Liar!" I growled, curling my hands into tight fists "Where the hell is she, bitch? What the hell did you do to her? I know she's not dead!"

A million thoughts were going through my head, I refused to believe that Chrissie was dead. She couldn't be. She wasn't. It was a lie, it had to be. Pausing with the knife, the old hag then produced something from her cloak. A bloody Pokemon card, almost ripped in half. No. That was Chrissie's favorite card, she spent months trying to find it and when she eventually got it she was so happy. The pit in my stomach grew.

"Where did you get that?" I barked, my clenched fists trembled with rage and frustration.

"From your sister's corpse" answered the crone, tossing the card onto the floor and stamping on it with her hobnailed boot.

The card now lay on the floorboards, torn in two, drops of crimson blood staining the illustration. I blinked down at it in disbelief. No. The bitch was lying.

"My sister is not dead! Lemme go!" I shouted, continuing to struggle as the knife resumed carving lines into my chest.

Thoughts of my baby sister played out in my mind like a film reel. The way she wrinkles her nose when she's confused always made me smile as she looks like a rabbit when she does so. Her eyes light up whenever she smiles and even when she is sad, the spark in her eyes is still there. The kid has always had a weird and sarcastic sense of humor, and used to say the strangest things when she was a little girl.

God I love that kid. What would I going do without her? No! I was letting my guard down, I couldn't do that. Chrissie was still alive, she had to be.

"She's rotting like some slab of meat in the cellar," smirked the old bitch, pressing down on the knife, applying more pressure. ""I might toss some of her limbs to the wolves"

My gaze fell upon the destroyed Pokemon card once again. No. It's not true. She's not dead. Doubt began to plague my mind. She was dead. Her body was somewhere within this cabin, and I didn't know where, which was worse. Anger coursed through my veins as I tried to get rid of the negative thoughts out of my head.

"Chrissie" I whispered, my chest burning with pain both on the outside and inside.

The old bitch paused again, smirking and letting out a chuckle. She licked the blood from the blade with her gray tongue. Afterwards she glanced up at me.

"She was in the very same position as you are in now," said the hag with a sadistic grin, dragging the knife down my chest again. "Tied up and helpless. Crying and screaming for you, your father and brother if I recall. She even wept for your dead mother, the one she never knew. Poor little thing was inconsolable."

The pit in my stomach was now like a black hole, sucking everything happy and good away from me. My throat threatened to close up as the lump bloated like a golf ball.

"What?" I exclaimed, my voice almost cracking. "What did you do to her? She's just a kid for Christ sake!"

My baby sister was gone, I failed her. She had been brutally murdered at the hands of this bitch. I was gonna gut this old crone like a damn fish! Denial settled amongst my shock and disbelief. Deep down, I knew she wasn't dead. She couldn't be. God wouldn't do that to me, or maybe he would because he is so damn cruel.

"I peeled her skin off in layers, such anger sorrow for such a pretty little thing," added the hag, carving into my flesh. "Even her heart tasted sour. The rest of her organs I devoured without a thought"

I felt myself go white, nausea washed over me. That cannibalistic, vicious old whore! I was gonna have her head for this!

"You bitch! When I get up so God help me, I will end you!" I roared, my voice going raw with emotion. "Do you hear me? END you!"

All I could think about was the pain and agony Chrissie had endured. She had been scared, and alone. She had always hated being alone. The horrible images of my baby sister being tortured was eating away in my brain like a cancer. I tried to battle against them, my only way was to think back through time. As the saying goes, think of happy thoughts, which is what I tried to do.

I was twelve years old when Chris was born. I remember standing over her crib when she was about five days old, just staring at her.

She simply lay there in her tiny apple green sleeping suit, on her back and head to one side. Her hands were tightly closed, thumbs tucked under her fingers.

She looked peaceful, and yet completely helpless. Apparently she had been born with a head full of hair according to Mom and Dad, a tuft of brown hair rested on her newborn head.

That was the one memory I kept replaying in my head as the old bitch continued to slice at me with her knife. Two voices yelled in my head as I tried to hold onto the memory. One screamed _'she's dead. she died on your watch!' _while the other said _'No! You would feel it if she was dead and she isn't! You gotta find her!' _To be honest I was having a hard time trying to ignore them as the situation was driving me literally insane. I even ignored the blood that was running down my chest.

"I am Baba Yaga," said the crone, grinning with her iron teeth. "Believe me my boy, your sister is dead."

I shook my head. No. Bitch your wrong. My sister is stronger than you think, I should know since I've basically raised her. The blood stuck to my t-shirt, making it sting but I don't care. All I care about is knowing that my baby is alive.

Baba Yaga brought the blade away from my chest for a moment. She smirked and let out a cackle. The knife dragged down my chest again before stabbing my right thigh with a sudden and swift movement. A pained roar ripped out my throat, tears of anger and pain filled my eyes. The knife was twisted violently, causing me to scream again. Blood poured out as the flesh of my thigh was pierced. Gasping for breathe, my head flopped forward as sweat dripped off my bruised forehead. After yanking the knife out my leg, the deformed bitch went back to carving lines into my chest.

Oh God, Chrissie, I'm so sorry. I've screwed up again, and if I hadn't taken the scenic route then none of this shit would've happened. Wherever she was, I was gonna find her. My eyes fell on the Pokemon card again, which caused several tears to fall down my face. Chrissie, my Chrissie.

Dammit, I couldn't break down. Deep down I knew, my little girl was still alive. Suddenly, a high pitched scream filled the bone decorated cabin.

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**Don't throw tomatoes at me for ending this chapter on a cliffhanger. Ignore the box of tomatoes, walk away from the box!**

**If you have any requests or have any ideas about future events regarding the double act siblings, then just PM me. It would be awesome to hear from some of you guys. **

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	27. The Legend of Baba Yaga Part 3

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for her support and help with this chapter. Also thanks to those who have reviewed and favourited.**

**Chris's POV**

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Have you ever woke up next to a rotting, mutilated corpse complete with maggots and flies? That was the first thing I saw and smelt as soon as I woke up. An iron cage surrounded me, the thick bars weary with age and rust. I let out a high pitched scream as I scrambled backwards, away from the dead body.

The corpse stared at me with it's one remaining eyeball, whilst the other had been ripped out of the socket and was decomposing beside the victim's broken hand. It was obvious that the victim's limbs had been broken with some heavy and blunt force as several bones poked through the skin and muscles. A horrible expression of pain was frozen on the victim's bloody face, the jaw bone almost detached from the lower bottom half of the face. The chest cavity had been torn open, allowing the heart and lungs to be stolen through disembowelment.

I wretched in the corner I had fled to. The corpse has been there for a while, that was for certain. As my eyes began to focus, I realized with a sigh of relief that it was not Dean. I scanned about as crawled over to the door of the cage. Where was he? I knew I had to get my head back in the game and try and figure a way out, and a way to find my big brother.

I didn't know how much time I had until Baba Yaga came back. So much for being a Russian folktale.

The last thing I recall was finding myself being dragged inside her small cabin before cracking the side of my head against something. Then everything went dark. I dunno how long I was out. Taking deep breathes, I rose slowly to my feet, my knees shaking. It was dark and the only sources of light came from wax candles, which were on outside the cage that trapped me. Peering out, I realized something. I was small and skinny enough to squeeze through the bars.

Cautiously, I eased myself through the bars and crept towards a candle, which I eventually snatched. Heck, I wasn't sneaking around in a legendary witch's cabin in the dark, I'd be stupid otherwise.

Like a stealthy cat, I slipped between the shadows as I traveled towards the upper level of Baba Yaga's cabin. I then found myself in the main room of the hag's lair. Crawling under a large wooden table, I could hear the witch's croaks. I blew out the candle in my hand as I watched Baba Yaga lean towards something tied up against another iron cage. The crackling fire nearby illuminated the room and the identity of the witch's next victim became recognizable. I let out a small almost silent gasp as I studied the bloodied figure, a gold amulet dangled from their neck.

"Dean!" I uttered.

My heart was beating a mile a minute, beating so fast I could hardly catch my breathe. I closes my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to settle myself. _Keep your head in the game Chris, time to start acting like a real hunter_ I told myself, watching the hag draw bloody lines on my big brother's chest with a knife.

"She screamed and screamed," said Baba Yaga, her tone riddled with sadistic pleasure. "Quite the fighter that little one, but no match for Baba Yaga."

My eyes widened in shock. My brother thought I was dead, brainwashed by the witch's lies. The witch was cunning, and truthfully I wasn't sure what powers she had. I couldn't go in blindly if I was gonna to save my big brother. I needed to tread lightly. Under the table, enveloped by the darkness, I continued to hear the witch tell lie after lie to Dean about how I was dead, and what the witch had done to me. Apparently my bones had been shattered by the blunt end of her axe before my limbs had been severed from my body. My guts had been yanked out one by one and devoured. While these details would have frightened most kids my age, this only infuriated me, giving me the motivation to take down this old bitch!

Come on stay strong big brother, I'm fine, you know I'm fine. Blood seeped from the wounds in his chest. I winced as I could almost sense his pain. I had to get the witch away from him. Thinking quickly, I glanced down at the candle in my grip, to which I tossed it away like a bowling ball. Baba Yaga detected the sudden movement and sound as she whipped her head around.

The candle rolled out of the room and down the stairs leading to the cellar. Baba Yaga paused, and hobbled over towards the table I was hiding under. She placed down the knife and went to retrieve the runaway candle. When she vanished out of sight, I made my move and grabbed the knife once I scuttled out from under the table.

With a lump in my throat, I rushed over to my big brother. Gazing up at him, I placed my free hand on his bleeding chest, blood soaking his t-shirt.

"Dean?" I whispered, nudging him slightly.

He was weak but still alive, which was the main thing. The wounds were only minor apart from the obvious stab wound in his right thigh. Poor guy had not long since recovered from getting stabbed in the side. Acting fast, I freed his hands from the rope that bound him to the cage wall, followed by his ankles. Due to blood loss and exhaustion, he was finding it hard to determine if what was in front of him was real. After all according to the words of Baba Yaga, I was dead. He blinked at me, his focus returning slowly.

"Chrissie?" he uttered. "I-I-I thought."

He shook his head, his knees buckled. Dropping the knife I went to aid him, helping him onto his feet again. I gave him a small smile, in an attempt to put him at ease. I'm an incurable virus, you can't get rid of me that easily. He knew, he just knew in his heart of hearts that I wasn't dead. Realization kicked in and I found myself getting pulled into a bone crushing hug, getting hoisted off the ground in the process. Our reunion was short lived as the witch made her presence known and felt once again. Typical. I dropped to the ground as my brother released his vice like grip.

"You!" came the rasping voice of Baba Yaga as she glided towards my brother and I, the wind outside howled.

Dean tried to protect me but the witch tossed him away with a flick of her boney wrist, causing him to crash against the table I had hidden underneath. Baba Yaga cursed at me in Russian as she made her way towards me. She made a mistake at walking in front of the roaring fire. The trick I was about to pull can be seen in the classic children's fairytale, Hansel and Gretel. For a powerful witch, she was no match for the speed and stamina possessed by youth.

Once I got my timing right, I charged at Baba Yaga, squawking a battle cry as I did. My body surged forward and I violently shoved the old witch into the fire.

Baba Yaga let out a blood curdling scream as she thrashed about in the flames. My brother then appeared at my side and grabbed hold of my wrist, tugging me towards the exit as we began to run. Suddenly the cabin began to wail alongside that of the burning witch. Black smoke began to fill the air, making visibility hard.

Next, came the sound of the cabin door slamming shut. I reached out of contact through the smoke, nearly blind. My brother was yelling my name. What was he doing that for? I was right beside him. Wait. I felt around. He wasn't there, he was outside and I was stuck inside. Ah crap! I was trapped in a burning cabin.

Coughing, I thumped on the door in an attempt to break out. My lungs filled with smoke as I screamed for my brother. Flames spreading all around me, looming closer and closer. My arms felt incredibly numb, and tingly. My chest felt like the weight of the world is on it, literally. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and as the coughing spasms racked my small frame, precious oxygen was being stolen away from me. Eventually I gave into the pain in my chest and arms. I then collapsed to the ground, hitting the floorboards with a thud.

I wheezed and coughed as more air was expelled from my polluted lungs. Huddled onto my side, I could hear my brother yell my name, the door that separated us trembled as a force tried to break it down. White dots obscured my vision as I began to drift away. Then it went dark.

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***ducks from rotten vegetables and fruit* **

**Sorry for the cliffhanger!**

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	28. The Legend of Baba Yaga Final

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray!**

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**Dean's POV**

I hate fire. Fire destroyed my life, it stole my home and it claimed the body of my mother. Flames burst through the wooden shutters of the crone's cabin, smoke billowed everywhere. Nevertheless I kicked down the door, my baby sister was trapped. I saved her from fire before, and I would do it again. That kid means everything to me, I wasn't gonna loose her. There was no way in hell I was gonna let the smoke and flames take her away from me.

I discovered her laying in a heap, covered in soot. Her breathing was shallow and she made no movements at all. Shit! As the flames increased in height and heat, I scooped my motionless sister before charging out the cabin at full speed. I ran like there was no freakin' tomorrow, carrying Chrissie in my arms and once we ventured a certain distance from the now destroyed cabin, Chrissie started to cough. This signaled me to stop, giving me the chance to crouch down on my knees and hold her close to my chest. The pain in my leg burned, I had forgotten about the stab wound the old bitch delivered.

She wriggled and wheezed, her eyes slowly creaking open. Sweat trickled down her face. The kid tried to speak but her voice was raw and she continued to cough.

"Shhh baby girl, I got you," I hushed, giving her a small peck on the forehead "No talking, you need to save your oxygen."

This was bad, she was in life threatening shape at this point. Determined to do anything I could for my little sister, I held her close as I rose to my feet again and continued to make my way to find the Impala. I was traipsing through the woods, trying to find anything that looked familiar, but all I saw was the woods of Pennsylvania, miles and miles of woods. Shit! Suddenly, something colorful caught my eye. A Pokemon card? Chris must have dropped it. Well, I guess I'm gonna have to give her a few dollars to replace the cards she has lost. One card after another, which had been torn to shreds, leaving the perfect trail of 'bread crumbs" hopefully leading us back to the Impala.

I limped with my sister in my arms, following the card trial until I finally found my car. Chris was placed in the backseat whilst I changed the damaged left wheel in record time before jumping into the backseat and speeding away.

Thankfully the hospital wasn't that far away, which was a relief to me as I was freakin' out big time. By the time I pulled up outside the Emergency Room, Chris had stopped breathing and her heart beat was to slow for my liking. Shit!

"Help me! I need help here!" I yelled, limping into the ER with a lifeless Chris in my arms. "Please, she's not breathing!"

Doctors and nurses surrounded us, taking Chris out of my arms and placing her on a gurney and wheeling her down the corridor. I limped alongside the gurney, not wanting to leave my baby sister. A nurse in her mid forties and wearing dark blue scrubs then guided me towards the neighboring triage room.

"I'll come get you as soon as she is stable," she said, helping me onto a cubicle bed. "I promise."

I shook my head at her, climbing out of the bed, my knee almost buckled due to the pain.

"Like hell I'm staying here!" I said with a grimace. "Let me see her, I can't leave her alone!"

I played all of the events back in my head. I was feeling defeated for a lot of reasons. I couldn't help my little sister right now, I didn't even know what was going on and it was killing me.

"Sir, your daughter needs help, and we can help her better if you let us do our job," said the nurse, clearly from Boston due to her accent, as it was so thick that it could unclog a toilet. "As soon as her breathing is stable I will take you back, I promise. Let me go check on her, and I'll be right back."

Honestly I loved the fact that someone else thought of me as her father, even though our ages made the idea kinda complicated and weird. How could a twenty three year old be a father to an eleven year old. Oh yeah, I fathered a child at twelve years old. Not realistic in my view. Still it was a compliment. Minutes later the nurse returned, stating that Chris was being cared for by the best professionals in the state. Nevertheless I continued to worry as my wounds were stitched up.

The nurse then guided me to the neighboring triage room. I caught my breathe at the sight of my baby sister. She had been stripped of her clothes which had then been replaced by a hospital gown, decorated with tiny teddy bears and stars. Her hair was spread across the pillow that cushioned the back of her head. A ventilator rammed down her small throat, and the heart monitor attached to her flat chest causing an annoying beep to echo around the silent room.

She looked so innocent as she lay there. I sat down next to her and sighed, running a shaking hand through my hair. The nurse joined me, her name badge read Joyce.

"Look, I'm not going to lie, she's in rough shape," said Joyce, gazing down at Chris. "She inhaled a lot of smoke, her lungs need to rest for a while. But, I will tell you from a nurse's perspective, I've seen worse. Let her do her thing, and let us do ours."

I ran my fingers through her brown scruffy hair. She looked so sick and vulnerable. It was killing me.

"I can tell you love your daughter," said Joyce. "I can also tell she's a fighter."

Joyce patted me on the shoulder as she rose to her feet again, her expression gentle and caring.

"I'll be back in a bit. They are going to want to transfer her to a room within the next half hour until there is a space in Pediatrics," she said with a reassuring smile, then she asked. "How old is she?"

My gaze never left my baby sister. In my heart she was _my_ baby, I'd do anything for her and the kid would do anything for me. I've never seen such respect and loyalty in someone so young. That's Chris though, even though she is mischievous and moody most times, the kid has a heart of gold.

"She's eleven" I replied, my voice quiet.

The heart monitor and the ventilator were the only sounds that came from Chris's small, fragile form.

"Such a little thing for eleven. So pretty too, you'll have your hands full when she's older," said Joyce with a kind smile. She then chuckled slightly. "A pretty fighter, good luck Dad."

I smiled weakly, my eyes remained on my sister. I would trade places with her in an instant but it would be cruel to do so as it would mean leaving her to fend for herself. I couldn't do that to her. Joyce left, leaving me alone with Chris and my thoughts.

This was all my fault, if I hadn't taken the stupid short cut then we wouldn't have been nabbed by some Russian witch therefore resulting in our trip to the ER after escaping from her burning house. Chris had been in the ER several times in the past. She nearly drowned when she was five years old. Also she suffered from a bad concussion which caused her to have a fit. When she was nine she fell out of a tree at Bobby's and broke her left arm, again my fault as I chased her up the tree because she had tipped custard into my boots.

I took her hand and planted several kisses on the back of it, hoping that she could sense my presence. I recalled memories to her in an attempt to wake her up but the stubborn kid kept her eyes closed. Sighing, I looked down at her, stroking the side of her pale face, her freckles sprayed across her nose.

"I'm so sorry baby," I whispered. "C'mon you gotta wake up. Life's boring without you annoying the hell outta me."

No response. So all I could do was wait. The sound of the machines driving me almost hysterical. As Chrissie says '_Telling me not to worry is like telling a dog not to bark_'. I waited and waited. Hours past and the location changed from ER triage room to a single room in the Pediatric Ward. One thing was certain though, this was all my fault. We had escaped Baba Yaga but at what cost?

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**Poor kid never gets a break does she? As cruel as it is, it's fun writing angsty/hurt stuff. **

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	29. The Tortoise At The Bottom Of The Bed

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for her help with this chapter. Also a shout out to brittpage21 for spell checking this chapter.**

**This chapter returns to Chris's POV**

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_I was in a field of yellow and blue flowers; a gentle breeze caused the lush green leaves of a large oak tree to rustle. The sunlight warmed my pale freckled skin as I wandered through the long grass, which tickled my bare legs and feet. The cool breeze caused my milk white linen dress flutter slightly as I wandered aimlessly. _

_A small smile spread across my face as I brushed my fingers against the blades of grass and delicate flower petals. Suddenly a soft voice, belonging to a female, caused me to pause and whip my head around to investigate. There, standing before me was my mother. The floral dress she was wearing highlighted her caring eyes, her blonde hair moving with the breeze as she slowly approached me. _

_My eyes widened with disbelief, I opened my mouth to speak but my mother glided over and placed a single finger against my dry lips. She smiled down at me._

_"Shhh, I'm here to help you get well little one," she hushed, as her other hand smoothed down my fluffy hair. "Sometimes all you need is Mom."_

_She leveled herself with me and I threw myself into her arms, a lump forming in my throat. I knew that this was a dream, and that's what made it all the more painful. Soothing warmth radiated from my mother as she held me close._

_"Mommy" I uttered, resembling my inner child as I clutched at the material of her dress, my breath hitched with emotion. _

_Mom pulled away from the embrace slightly in order to gaze into my eyes. She smiled as she stroked the side of my face._

_"I'm right here baby," she said comfortingly. "You just rest and let me take care of you."_

_Oh, why can't this be real. Why did it have to be a figment of my imagination, expressed through a dream. It wasn't fair! _

_"I'm sorry" I whispered, leaning into her touch._

_My Mom frowned in confusion and concern as she gazed into my eyes, her fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my right ear._

"_Sorry for what angel?" she enquired._

_I sighed, my voice threatening to crack due to the bubbling emotions inside me. _

_"For getting myself into this mess. I'm sorry for getting myself hurt" I answered sadly, tears glazing my eyes. _

_A kiss was planted on my forehead, Mom then cupped the side of my face in her gentle hands._

_"I am so proud of you sweetheart," she smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "I admire you for choosing what you think is right. You are following your family and that is what is important. Dean and your father may not always make the best decisions, but they are trying their best and doing a good job."_

_My brother maybe but I still had my reservations regarding my Dad. He wasn't a bad man though, even though his words and actions hurt._

_"We don't have much time sweetheart; you need to get back to Dean before he loses his mind," added Mom. "He loves you so much Chrissie. You need to watch out for him as much as he watches out for you. Promise me that."_

_I nodded as I gazed up at her, tears stinging my eyes as my Mother began to dissolve into the air. A ghostly kiss grazed my cheek before she disappeared altogether. Suddenly a dazzling flash of light nearly blinded me. I guess it was time to wake up._

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My eyes creaked open as I returned to reality. I can recall the sensation of a tube being shoved down my throat, regardless of being unconscious at the time I could still feel every poke and prod from the doctors and nurses. I've always hated hospitals. It's not the fact that you're stuck there for whatever reason; it's the smell that freaks me out. The sterile stench of disinfectant and medicines make me feel sick with worry and fear. The curtain of death also hangs around hospitals.

The ventilator must have been replaced, as an oxygen mask was clamped over my nose and mouth. Groggily, I gazed up only to be confronted by my big brother. He almost broke every bone in my right hand when he grabbed hold of it.

"You had me going there for a while kid," he said. "I seriously thought you weren't going to open those green eyes up for me again. Scared the crap outta me!"

I felt guilty for giving him such a scare, then again I didn't exactly plan it. Blinking up at him with bleary eyes, I made an attempt to speak. My throat raw and sore.

"Hey, no talking young lady," he chided with a small frown. "You need to save your strength and your oxygen."

I felt so lightheaded and all I could do was blink and squeeze my brother's hand. Whatever drugs or medicines I was been administered, it was wreaking havoc with my logic, confusing fact with fantasy. This nurse with a broad Boston accent then showed up with, I'm assuming, some sort of therapist. I was giving two breathing treatments since it was claimed that my chest was still very tight due to the smoke inhalation. Under strict rules, I was allowed to remove the mask for short periods of time, until my breathing was stable enough.

The nurse, named Joyce soon left with the therapist, leaving me alone with my brother. Slowly, I removed the mask from my face with a trembling hand.

"Mom," I croaked with a hoarse voice. I gazed up at my concerned big brother, squeezing his hand again "I saw Mommy, Dean."

He blinked, holding back his breathe as he looked down at me. I had freaked him out with my statement. This was like the scene in _Sixth Sense_ when the kid tells Bruce Willis that he sees dead people.

"Oh yeah," replied Dean, raising an eyebrow slightly. "What did she say?"

I licked my parched lips as I pressed the back of my head against the pillows. Was it raining upwards outside? Uh oh. The drugs were kicking in. I've been told that I become extremely hyper and crazy whenever I'm given any form of pain relief. I gazed up at my brother.

"To watch out for you" I answered weakly.

My brother scoffed at me and rolled his eyes.

"Watch out for me!" he said with a smile. "You're the one in the hospital bed, not me. What have I been telling you? Huh? I take care of you, remember."

No I'm sure it was raining upwards. Another fact I just remembered, the doctors and nurses had an evil plan, what the plan was might take a while recollecting.

"You need some rest kid," Dean said leaning over to plant a kiss on my forehead. "I'll be right here, not moving an inch."

With that limp, a tortoise would beat him in a race at this current stage. Come to think of it, what was a tortoise doing at the foot of my bed? I smirked and wriggled my toes. Leaning forward towards the strange tortoise wearing a purple bandana, I cocked my head like a confused boxer puppy, wrinkling my nose like a rabbit. My trademark confused expression.

"Get some rest little girl," said Dean, gently pushing me into the mattress. "I need you well."

Ha. The tortoise just gave me a thumbs up. Do they even have thumbs? Now it was licking a lettuce flavored ice cream, giving me the odd glance.

"I'm not a little girl" I protested with a pout as I folded my arms.

The tortoise continued to eat the ice cream whilst laying on a tiny hammock. I really was crazy.

"Okay, miss eleven year old, you still need rest," he mimicked whilst trying not to laugh. "I'm the boss and it's an order."

He had begun to recognize the symptoms of my hyperactive madness. Poor guy. Minutes later I passed out, only to wake up several hours later. Dean hadn't moved from his spot. My brother is like a guard dog around me. Anything troublesome regardless of whatever or whoever, they will be at high risk of being bitten or mauled.

"How are you feeling baby?" he asked me as soon as my eyes reopened. He squeezed my hand tightly as I yawned.

"A little sore" I wheezed, rubbing my throat with my free hand.

The instant I said that, my brother's expression turned to concern and panic. Drama king.

"Do you want me to get a nurse?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice. "Do you need another breathing treatment?"

She shook my head before motioning him with my hand. He sat on the bed beside me, waiting for me to make the next move. I leaned forward as if to tell him a secret.

"The doctors are evil," I whispered. "It's all a master plan to get our DNA and send it to aliens on Mars. The aliens are gonna invade the Earth and drain the Atlantic for science."

Oh Lord, I had officially lost my mind now. My brother blinked and raised his eyebrows at me.

"We're all gonna be slaves for the aliens. I heard them talking, but they don't know that I know," I continued. My eyes widened with fear at that point. "The doctors said they were gonna steal my brain. They want to cut my head open like a melon."

Dean shook his head in amusement and confusion.

"Chris, what in the hell are you talking about?" he asked, a smirk playing across his face. As he ruffled my hair, he added with a small chuckle. "Your delusional little head is still intact."

I pouted like a toddler, my eyes going wide like a puppy.

"I'm not lying," I insisted, tears welling in my eyes. My bottom lip wobbled. "I'm scared."

My brother sighed and rolled his eyes. He shook his head at me again.

"First, I assure you there are no aliens here," he said. "Second even if there was, I would not let them cut your melon and steal your DNA. Not gonna happen on my watch."

Tears began to drip down my pale cheeks, my bottom lip trembling like a little kid.

"I don't wanna go to Mars," I said sniffling.

Sighing again out of humor and exhaustion, my big brother pulled me into a one armed embrace.

"Sweetheart, you are not going to Mars," he told me in an assuring tone as he gazed down at me fondly, giving me a slight nudge. "Look, here's the plan. As soon as we bust out of here, we are finding a decent motel and getting you all better, okay kid."

I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my hand noisily. My brother held back a grimace as I did so as snot grossed him out.

"C'mon get some rest, we'll be outta here before you know it," he grinned whilst running a hand through my hair. "No aliens are coming to take over the world, and nobody is gonna steal your brain. I'm on guard duty. They would have to get past me first."

Even though I was still alert about an impending alien invasion and a brain snatching scenario, the drugs once again knocked me into another round of slumber.

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**I received a review regarding this story from an anonymous reader stating that it's kinda bad that I'm recently delivering more updates for this section of Chris's story. Also that I need to slow down with the chapter updates and more quality is needed because I seem to be doing something wrong.**

**Honestly I was taken aback by this review but I have my reasons for producing short chapters. I have a busy week due to college and a work placement at a nearby school. I try to produce longer chapters and I'm going to within the next few chapters. Also I've started a new semester at college and I have homework and stuff. I do this out of my free time and enjoyment. I'm not J.K Rowling.**

**I know I need to lengthen my chapters and I promise to do so. I wasn't offended by this review but I felt a tiny bit patronized. I do like feedback but please choose your words wisely. It was hard to decide whether or not that review was positive or negative. **

**For the fans of this story, I thank you all so much for following me with this story and my others too. It means a lot to me to hear good and kind feedback as it pushes me to produce more.**

**Anyway, rant over.**

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	30. Do You Know Dean has a TV Twin?

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray for her help :) Also a shout out to those who have reviewed and favourited this story :)**

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Hallelujah! I was able to leave the hospital the next day, allowing my brother and I to escape from the brain snatching doctors and their evil conspiracy.

"I stink of pee and medicine" I remarked with a pout as we exited through the automatic double doors leading to the parking lot. My brother gave me a playful nudge.

"Yeah, you do" he replied with a chuckle, a grin spreading across his face. A bruise on his forehead due to getting clobbered by Baba Yaga's stone pestle.

He walked with a tiny limp, because of the stab wound on his thigh. Apart from that he walked normal. I scanned him up and down as we ventured across the parking lot. Sniggering, I pointed at him.

"You walk funny" I giggled, observing his movements.

My brother glanced down at me, assuming I was commenting on his limp. He raised an eyebrow.

"Hey injured brother here," he said, a smile on his face "What about some sympathy?"

I continued to giggle as I imitated his bow legged walk, to which he rolled his eyes at me.

"You walk like your sitting on a horse," I laughed, a large grin spreading across my face. "It's stupid."

Again, Dean rolled his eyes at me before giving me a humorous shove. Our banter is unique compared to most siblings. Not only are we brother and sister, we're best friends too.

"Well, I guess you're feeling better then, huh? But you still need to take it easy, okay," he said. He sighed before adding with a reprimanding tone, as I bounced around him like a spring activated toy. "Will you stop skipping please? Your making me dizzy just watching you"

I stopped and gazed up at him with a wide eyed puppy dog expression. Crossing my arms behind my back, I started swaying on my heels. My brother leveled himself with me.

"Seriously kid, you were in pretty rough shape around forty eight hours ago," he said. "You need to take it easy."

Yeah, right. Telling a hyperactive kid to settle down will be like asking vampire to become a vegetarian.

Several hours later, back at the motel, I was still bouncing around the room.

"Alright kid, time to lay down for a bit," my brother said, sitting me down on the couch. "You should rest too."

I whined as I watched my brother swallow his pain medication. I flopped down on the moth-eaten couch.

"Now, Chris" ordered my big brother.

Pouting, I slugged my way over to the beds before climbing onto one of the beds. Moodily, I slapped my baseball cap on the bedside table before curling into a ball whilst laying on my side.

"I'm not tired Dean!" I complained, as my brother joined me.

He sighed, expressing exhaustion through his behaviour and mood. Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked down at me before laying down on the mattress.

"Too bad" he said with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.

I was so wired from the meds and to be honest I was sick of staying in bed. The hospital was enough rest for me. I sprung from the bed and charged over to the couch again before clambering onto it. Laughing, I began to bounce on the cushions like a gymnast performing on trampoline.

"Kid, for the last time," Dean pleaded as he sat up on the bed. Looking completely exhausted due to pain medication he had been given by the doctors at the hospital. "Would you just lay down? Please."

I paused. My brother looked terrible, his eyes emphasized his sleep depravation. I did a tuck jump off the couch before wandering over to my droopy eyed big brother.

"You okay?" I asked him as I wandered back over to the bed.

I halted in front of him before perching myself on his knee like a little kid. Cocking my head at him, my wide eyes blinked at him curiously. The twitch in my nose caused me to resemble a rabbit. He looked ready to pass out.

"Chrissie, please just lay down with me baby, and stop tumbling off of the furniture," he begged. "Your gonna break your god damn neck if your not careful."

I giggled innocently at him, making him roll his eyes at me in annoyance. Then my eyes suddenly filled with worry and concern. I tackled my big brother into a fierce hug, making him fall back onto the bed in surprise. The wind was almost taken out of him at that moment.

"I'm sorry" I apologized, hugging my brother tightly.

Sighing heavily, he peered down at me as he tried to free himself. He was having a hard time trying to focus.

"Why are you sorry kid?" he questioned groggily.

I pouted as I gazed up at him, unwinding my arms from his torso.

"I'm annoying you," I said. "Just like when I annoy Daddy."

Sitting up, I hung my head sadly.

"No, baby, not at all," my brother assured as he sat up. "I'm just...I'm just tired and I don't want you breaking your skull because you decided the motel room doubled as a gym."

Gazing around the room, I sighed. If it was a gym then it's a pretty crap one if you ask me. It was raining upwards again, the rain pattering against the windows.

"God, these pain meds have me loopy, and I really need to sleep," said my brother, before shooting me a glance. "So do you for that matter, you need your rest too. C'mon and lay beside me for a while, okay?"

So I did, not wanting to piss him off further. Minutes later we were both passed out.

* * *

**Four days Later**

Normally TV broadcasts garbage but I have to say I was getting into this show on _FOX_. It had been cancelled two months back but they were showing reruns. I'd been watching it since it started two years ago, it was called _Dark Angel_. Basically its set in a post apocalyptic Seattle and its about these genetically engineered soldiers, in which twelve escaped from a lab place or something. Dunno why they cancelled it to be honest. What's strange, is that one of main characters in the second season is Dean's twin. It's freaky and it made me laugh the first time the character turned up. Dean did a double take too if I can recall.

I lounged casually on the couch, crunching my way through a large bag of potato chips, dunking an individual chip every now and again into a jar of mayonnaise. My attention focused on the TV. I felt sad for the character of Alec, aka Dean's twin, as he was being forced to look back into a part of his past which involved the death of his first love. No kidding, it's freaky as hell, I mean this guy is my brother's exact double. I had to keep blinking to bring me out of confusion.

Speaking of my brother, where the hell was he? He said he was only gonna be at the store twenty minutes. My ass. He's been gone for over an hour and a half. I blew a loud raspberry, expressing my annoyance before removing my baseball cap in order to ruffle my messy brown waves. The dumbass is probably chatting up some random girl again. When _Dark Angel _finished I hopped off the couch in order to watch at the window, a common past time of mine whenever I was left alone. After several more minutes I sighed heavily before returning to the couch.

What the hell was taking him so long? Oh no! What if he got jumped, mugged and beaten up and was laying in a alleyway? I shook my head, trying to dismiss the negative thoughts in my head. My brother was as tough as concrete, nobody would dare challenge him. Suddenly my ears detected a familiar rumble enter the parking lot outside the motel, a relieved smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Leaping from the couch ventured to the door as soon as I heard movement outside. I opened it and my heart stopped, dropping down into my gut as the smile vanished from my face. Dad was standing in the doorway.

His foot jammed the door open as I attempted to slam it in his face. How did he find us? Why was he here? What did he want? My mind rushed with the images and sounds of the night he smacked me in a drunken rage.

"C'mon honey, let me in," he begged, his tone void of any anger. For now that is. He peered inside the room. "Where's Dean?"

He'll be back soon, he wouldn't abandon me, unlike Dad, who had been leaving me home alone since I was four years old in order to train my brothers. Unsure of the softness in Dad's voice, I looked him in the eye and sensed his strange calmness. Reluctantly, I allowed him into the room, praying Dean would come back, like now. I quickly backed away as Dad entered the room. He musta tracked us down somehow.

"Why are you here?" I blurted out suddenly.

I actually covered my mouth after I said it. I didn't mean to say it out loud. Bracing myself for my father's backlash, I was surprised as a surge of anger it never erupted from him. Backing away slowly, my back eventually hit the bathroom door.

"Chrissie? What's the matter honey?" Dad asked, searching my eyes, pleading for me to relax. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Really? I refused to believe the man who caused me physical and emotional harm. He suddenly grabbed my arm as I tried to escape from him, squeezing my upper arm tightly to stop me from moving any further. Oh no! This is were I get punishment for speaking out against authority and for showing no respect.

"Christina, I'm not gonna hurt you. You need to relax." he pleaded, his tone desperate.

This was not gonna to end well if he didn't let go of my arm.

"Lemme go," I whimpered, tugging at my arm. "Daddy your hurting me. Please, lemme go."

He let me go, but still continuing to tell me to calm down. Suddenly, my super sensing ears picked up the familiar sound of a muffled roar which was rumbling into the parking lot outside. Safe I thought while still glaring up at Dad.

The door to the room opened and my big brother entered the room. He froze as soon as he saw Dad standing in front of me. Marching over, my brother confronted Dad, face to face.

"Get the hell away from her!" growled Dean, dangerously, almost like an angry guard dog as he shoved Dad away from me.

My brother then shot me a quick _'You okay?' _glance, to which I simply blinked up at him with frightened eyes.

"Can't you see she's scared outta her mind because of you and what you did to her!" Dean yelled. "Get the hell outta here, I don't want you anywhere near her. We've been through hell the last few days so I would appreciate it if you would leave us the hell alone. Seriously, we're all good here."

My brother put out a protective arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side, safe and out of reach of harm. Dad looked furious as he moved towards the Goose, who was shielding me with his wing.

"What the fuck Dean?" Dad declared in outrage. "This is my family, I know I've made some mistakes, but I needed to see you guys. You're my children."

His expression softened slightly as remorse entered his tired facial features. I gazed up at Dad, my eyes watering. I felt like a frightened little toddler as I was still hiding behind my big brother.

"Family doesn't leave family!" I shouted, starling Dad and Dean. "Family doesn't beat on their family Daddy!"

As soon as I said the word _Daddy_, my voice cracked.

"I'm so sorry baby, I really never meant to hurt anybody, sometimes I just can't control it," explained Dad, guilt lacing his tone before adding with a heavy sigh. ""I'm an ass."

Understatement of the year. I looked away from him.

"Yeah, Dad you are an ass," replied Dean. "What the hell do you want?"

Dad sighed exasperation, throwing his arms out in annoyance and desperation.

"I want to see my children!" he said loudly.

My brother and I glared at our father, shooting multiple invisible darts and daggers at him.

"Why?" we both chorused in unison, in which we glanced up at each other afterwards for a brief second.

Peering behind my brother, I continued to glare at my father, the tongue of my baseball casting a shadow across my forehead.

"Every time you see us, we make you sad or angry and most times we have done nothing wrong. Then you drink, Daddy!" I said, the words gushing out like vomit. "I don't like when you do that! You cant even look at me! Why?"

My voice broke again on the word _why_. I was right though, every time Dad looks at me I can see and sense pain in his dark eyes. A split second later I let out a small growl, throwing myself at Dad. Using all of my limited strength, I pounded my fists on his abdomen over and over again. My brother was forcing me away from Dad, as tears began flowing down my pale freckled cheeks.

"Dad, now is really not a good time, just give us some space," said Dean, glancing up at Dad as he struggled with my sudden meltdown, complete with thrashing limbs. "Come back in a few hours."

Next I heard the motel room door slammed shut and Dad was gone.

* * *

**Check out another story in the Chris verse, it's called Once upon a Time in Kansas, written by myself and brittpage21. It's new and we are both interested in seeing opinions and thoughts on it. It will be written as one shots**

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**


	31. Not While I'm Around

**Thanks again to Alyssa Ray who helped with the beginning of the chapter.**

* * *

The pillow I was hugging to my chest was bearing the brunt of my anguish as I sat on my bed, my back resting against the headboard. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I contemplated the current situation. Dad had good intentions didn't he? Or was he just hiding the fact that he was secretly pissed off at my brother and I? Both? Hell, I dunno anymore. Why does life have to be so complicated and painful?

"Hey baby girl," came my brother's voice as he limped over towards my bed, concern etched all over his face. "What was that all about? I thought we were getting all of your anger under control, huh?"

He brought a hand to my face and began swatting away the tears with his thumb. I just gazed up at him desolately.

"Why the fist frenzy, Chrissie?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as a small curious frown developed on his face.

Loads of explanations were racing around my mind but I couldn't find a decent enough answer.

"I don't know" I remarked with a shrug.

I noticed the Goose rolling his eyes at me, to which he nudged me slightly on the arm.

"I think you do, so come on out with it kid," he encouraged, his tone gentle as he gazed down at me. "I know it's been a rough couple of days for us, but that little outburst was not cool. Do you remember what I said about that?"

I nodded glumly. Oh God, another lecture.

"Okay, tell me what I said" probed my brother, waiting for my reasonable explanation for my sudden Hulk freak out moment.

Our gaze met as I looked up at him. My bangs were sticking up slightly, almost resembling the hairdo that Ash from _Pokemon _has. My baseball cap rested on the bedside table.

"That anger only leads to trouble" I commented miserably, hanging my head again out of shame.

Boy, do I have anger issues. Maybe repressing it all inside my head isn't a good thing.

"Yeah, it can lead to trouble and that ain't a good thing most times. So let me in on why you felt you had to pummel Dad?" he asked as a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

I squeezed the pillow tightly as I shifted in my position. Underneath my thick grey socks, I curled my toes.

"He asked for it" I replied in a small voice.

If the pillow was alive it would have been choked to death by now as I had a vice like grip on the soft but lumpy object.

Dean let out a small chuckle, which on his behalf wasn't very wise as I shot him a small glare.

"Why darlin? I was right here," he said. "Besides grabbing your arm, he seemed sincere this time, so what gives? What did he do?"

You really wanna go into details about that bro? Well, it just so happens I think different.

"It was because of last time" I frowned.

I doubt it would be normal to be so forgiving after your drunk parent smacks you across the face. Then again, he has done it before in the past, but my brother is unaware of that matter. For now that is. Maybe I should open up about my issues with Dad? I dunno, it'll only cause more tension and grief. My big brother gazed down at me.

"So young grasshopper, you are seeking revenge huh?" he said, to which I gave him a small nod. "Look, Chris, what have I told you over and over again, I'm gonna protect you right. Whether it is from Dad or some ghost or demon, I've got your back, okay."

He waited for an acknowledgement of some sort from me. Trying to swallow down the large golf ball lump that was lodged in my throat was proving to be a difficult challenge.

"I know that," I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. "I just wanna hear Dad say that to me."

Fresh tears pooled in my eyes and within seconds of forming, began sliding down my cheeks as my face crumpled. This action resulted in Goose wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into an embrace. Honestly, my mental barricade is so weak at times. I really need to learn how to reinforce it with something stronger which will stop me from breaking down.

"Oh baby don't cry. Dad does love you, are you kidding me? How could you ever doubt that," he commented, his tone soft. "Dad is just, well, Dad is Dad. He doesn't get how to show emotions, but I know he loves you, more than you can imagine. Seriously he's whipped my ass plenty of times over things about you. He cares, why do you think he puts me on guard dog duty all the time?"

Sniffling, I gazed up at my big brother mournfully. I dragged the back of my hand across my running nose and sniffed.

"Cos he can't be assed doing it himself," I croaked in reply. "What do I do wrong?"

Lots of things according to my beliefs. My self esteem isn't exactly healthy and steady compared to normal standards. You can probably guess that by now.

"No, do you remember anything when you were really little, you were his princess," said Dean. "Dad could have put you in a box on a high shelf. Hell, he would have. He just realized you are a part of this life, his life, our life and unfortunately it involves dangerous things. For the record, you didn't deserve what Dad did to you. Dad's drinking is just as wrong as him hitting you that one time."

_One _time. Yeah, keep believing that bro. Oh no, I felt a tiny chuckle rumble out of my throat and words escaping behind the broken laugh.

"He's hit me before," I confessed, my voice small. "It would be over something stupid, like I could just drop something by accident and he would go nuts at me."

My brother just gazed down at me, a mixture of angst, disbelief and sorrow expressed on his face.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded, his voice threatening to waver due to a sudden surge of hidden emotions. "He shouldn't be hitting you for that Chris, you know that right. That's not discipline, that's abuse."

I wouldn't say its abuse. Dad doesn't mean to do it, I just cause that reaction outta him through my own stupidity and weakness.

"I'm just clumsy that's all," I said, still hugging the pillow whilst leaning into my big brother's embrace. "I'm just stupid sometimes."

It was clear that Dean disagreed with my statement. Most times, his opinions on things are different than mine.

"Whoa kid. What are you talking about?" he said, rising a quizzical brow as he looked at my directly in the eyes. "Getting smacked for doing something dangerous is a lot different that being hit for being clumsy. That's not okay. At all. You don't deserve it."

My Dad is a good man, he doesn't mean it.

* * *

_Dad was nursing a bottle of beer again, sitting sullenly at the kitchen table, reading through local obituaries. Something was targeting single women within the same area of houses, my Dad suspicions were pointing towards a witchcraft and black magic. _

_The bottle of beer was his sixth, and I've been told that my Dad has a very low alcohol tolerance. Another thing, he never tolerates me watching TV when I'm meant to be studying Latin._

_Since it was just Dad and I whilst Dean was interviewing a witness to one of the grizzly deaths, the TV remote was safe from his clutches. I was minding my own business, watching SpongeBob SquarePants, when a large hand suddenly rapped me across the back of the head. Startled, I gazed up to see Dad glaring at me. _

"_What's more important, learning Latin or watching TV?" he demanded crossly as I rubbed the back of my head. "Turn that garbage off and get reading. Don't slack either."_

* * *

Tears swam in my eyes again and began to pour down my face once more, causing me to throw the pillow down in frustration as sobs began to tremble throughout my frame. My brother saw this and pulled me back into a fierce embrace.

"Sssssh, it's okay," he soothed as he rubbed circles on my back as I cried in his arms. "Just let it out."

I buried my face into his chest as I sobbed my guts out, my fingers curled round the material of his plaid shirt, almost making my knuckles crack in the process. Several long minutes later, I gazed up at my brother with an expression capable of breaking hearts. Calloused hands belonging to my brother then cupped my face.

"You really know how to break a guy's heart, sweetheart," Goose remarked with a sad smile as he swatted at my tears with his thumbs. I hiccupped and sniffled some more as he planted a kiss on my forehead, in an attempt to console me. "Nothing and no-one is gonna harm you. Not while I'm around."

Now there was something I could have faith in.

* * *

**The title for this chapter is based on the song "Not While I'm Around" from the hit musical "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street", I listened to it today whilst downloading some songs on itunes and I thought it resembled the relationship between Chris and Dean. I'd give it a listen if I were you, and you might have the same opinion as myself. It's a sweet song.**

**What did you think of this chapter? Any good?**

**Two chapters in one day, phew! **

**Stay tuned!**

**Please review!**


	32. Word Vomit

**Thanks to Alyssa Ray for her help with the dialogue in this chapter!**

* * *

There was a lot of mould and dampness spreading in the corners of the motel room walls. My attention was focused on a section of the developing infestation as I lay on the bed that I had claimed as mine.

"Dean?" I asked.

My brother's voice soon followed as he sat on the neighboring bed, sharpening his collection of knives.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied. "What's up?"

Lots of things, but mostly the fact that Dad had showed up again, in all his douchebag glory.

"What does he want? I mean what does he want with me?" I questioned curiously, my eyebrows arching downwards into a frown. "Does he want to be my Dad, or does he want me to just be one of his warriors? I don't get it?"

Like I've said before, life is painful and confusing. Everything was so simple once upon a time, then it came crashing down around me as if the sky was falling. Sighing, I rested my head back into the pillow as I turned onto my back, before craning it to the side in order to see my brother. Putting down the blade he was sharpening, Goose gazed over at me. Here we go.

"Well, I'm not Dad, kid, but I know he loves you, I've told you that," said the Goose, giving me a knowing look. "But I will also tell you that he wants you to be more than his little soldier. He wants you to be able to protect yourself against everything that's out there. It's just he has a hard time balancing it all, ya know. It would be so much easier if he was a mechanic and you went to school. But that's just not the reality of our situation. Does that make sense?"

Makes sense, loud and clear. Not. I gave my brother a brief shrug in response to his statement before sighing again.

"Well?" Dean asked inquisitively, waiting for a reasonable verbal response from me.

Avoiding his gaze, I played with my fingers. My eyes swiveled up to the ceiling, mould was spreading along there too.

"Nothing makes senses these days" I mumbled truthfully, taking my eyes of the ceiling as the sight of mould was making me ill.

Come to think of it, nothing has even made sense. Not for me anyway, which I find very frustrating and annoying.

"Care to elaborate a little more peanut?" quizzed my brother.

Oh I hate that nickname. I sat up slowly, resting my back against the headboard and crossing my bare legs. My fingers tugged at the bottom of my Pokemon nightdress.

"Inside my head, everything is crashing together like a huge pile up, to the point it gives me headaches," I said. "From all the issues with bullies, training, Dad, and even Sammy leaving. I don't know what to think or what to believe in anymore."

My brother frowned, clearly taken aback by my statement.

"So, you don't wanna train Chris?" he asked. "I thought you wanted to?"

I can tell he was hoping for my reply to be a _no _yet he knew deep down that wasn't the case. I've been stuck in the curse for too long now.

"Of course I wanna learn. It's the family business," I replied, gazing over at Goose briefly. "I'd be letting everybody down if I abandoned it. It's just hard, that's all."

Goose sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course it's hard! You're just a kid. A kid fighting demons and ghosts! Stuff of nightmares," he said, gazing over at me. "I hate to say it but it's never gonna get easy."

I raised an eyebrow as I glanced over at him.

"I never said it was gonna be easy," I returned. "I've known that for over three years now."

Ain't that the truth.

"Well lets bring up the two elephants in the room. Sammy and Dad. They're both kinda on our shit lists right now, huh?" Dean said, trying to lighten the mood a bit before the serious talk started.

I nodded slowly.

"I'm not mad at Sammy for leaving," I said. "I can understand why he left us. He wanted a normal life again."

"Well I can tell you Dad did seem sincere when he came, I don't think he meant to hurt you," stated the Goose with a serious expression. "Not that it make it right Chris. Sammy left, and I'm glad you have made peace with that, but I'm still struggling with it kid."

Obviously, I would have to have been dropped and kicked around like a soccer ball at birth not to know that.

"So back to Dad, he's gonna try to come back again," he added, giving me a careful glance. "You know that right?"

I nodded again.

"Do you think he'll be mad with me, for being this way?" I asked my big brother, my tone slightly worried.

"I don't think so. I think he wants to try and fix it," Goose replied, gazing across at me. "You should have seen the look in his eyes before he left. He seemed sorry, like he missed us or something. I hate to say this, but I think you should give him a shot."

I didn't respond after my brother finished, which allowed him to probe me further into speaking in order to break me out of a bad mood.

"So, are you gonna beat him up again when he comes back?" Dean asked with a slight smirk on his face.

"Unless its called for, then maybe" I mumbled.

His smirk quickly turned into a stern look. Uh oh. That sounded so much better in my head.

"What was that?" he questioned, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. "Chrissie, we have talked about your temper getting the best of you."

Another lecture and criticism, great. I hung my head in shame, zipping my mouth shut in the process to stop anymore word vomit coming out that would get me into more trouble.

"Well, young lady" Dean said, his tone becoming authoritarian.

I trembled slightly as I sensed his annoyance. Typical me, pissing everybody off.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "Please don't get mad."

My brother sighed and ventured over and sat down on the bed next to me, he shook his head as he studied my expression.

"I'm not mad sweetheart, I just really, really need you to control your temper," said Goose. "And Dad is the perfect place to start practicing that, right? So you'll give the old man a shot then? Without showing him your sparring skills?"

What sparring skills? I have none worth praising. Teachers and other adults call me a wild alley cat. Like I said before I would only do so if it was necessary.

"Okay, shortie, why don't you get some rest?" he added, reaching over to ruffle my hair.

"Don't call me shortie!" I grumped, my famous scowl spreading across my face.

"But you are short, shortie" he replied with a wink, laughing at his own lame joke.

"Don't laugh at me!" I snapped, shoving my face into the pillow.

I heard him sigh in irritation.

"Oh come on Chris, lighten up a little!" he said, his tone getting frustrated. "Seriously, I don't know what the hell is the matter with you, but this is starting to seem more like an attitude problem, than you just having a problem with Dad or Sam or bullies. Now I suggest you fix the attitude problem or else you and I will be having problems."

Great! Now I was in trouble with Dean. All I wanted to do was vent a little, why did he have to be so damn touchy?

"You're mad at me," I mumbled into the horribly stale, lumpy, and once white pillow. "I understand."

"I'm not mad at you, but you are not making this any easier Chris," returned Dean. "This sulking and burying your head in the pillow is well, getting a little ridiculous. And you not responding is also getting a little old. But I'm not mad."

The pillow suddenly started to zoom away, then I realized why. Goose was pulling me away from it, in order to look at me. His hands cupped the sides of my face as our identical green eyes met.

"I just want you to start acting like my little sister again, I miss it," my big brother confessed. "I miss the rebellious and opinionated Chris, the one who tells it like it is, the one who never gives up. Does that make sense?"

She is still around, but my doppelganger is currently host at the moment. My doppelganger is the one in charge of the bad moods, temper tantrums and crying fits. She really needs to piss off.

"I'm just afraid" I replied.

"Of what?" questioned the Goose

Unzip the mouth because here comes the word vomit.

"Dad breaks promises, and lies. He drinks and when he does he gets grouchy and violent most times," I said, sorrow lacing my voice as I began to open up. "When I'm left alone, something bad always happens. I know you never like leaving me alone and you avoid doing so but Dad, he doesn't make any effort. He never tries, and that's what hurts."

I sniffed. Doppelganger is hovering around the water works, ready to turn the taps.

"I mean, what am I doing wrong?" I questioned aloud, my throat almost closing up due to emotion.

My brother sighed again, his gaze never leaving mine as he held my face in his hands.

"Chris, you aren't doing anything wrong. Don't you hear me when I talk to you," Dean stated. "Of course I don't want to leave you, and truthfully I don't think Dad want's to either, but sometimes his priorities just get a little backwards."

Huh. That's putting it nicely.

"I've noticed," I replied with a sniff, before adding sarcastically "Do I have to wear a chicken suit to get noticed by him?"

My last statement made my brother smile.

"I'm sure it couldn't hurt things," he responded with a grin, flicking my bangs outta my eyes with his fingers. "Damn I sure as hell would like to see you in a chicken suit."

I smirked slightly, letting out a tiny giggle. Goose's hands then rested back on his knees. Can't remember the last time I genuinely smiled.

"So instead of leaving you, would you like to come with me to get some food, perhaps some fried chicken" asked Goose with a grin, raising his eyebrows up and down.

God, I'm related to this moron. I rolled my eyes and grunted before getting off the bed in order to tug a pair of jeans on. Even though I was still in my Pokemon nightdress, it kinda looked like an oversized t-shirt. My trusty baseball cap was placed firmly on my head, only to have Dean pull it down, blocking my vision. Such a big brother move.

"Okay chicken legs where to?" I heard his voice ask. "What do you feel like?"

I'll give you chicken legs! My attempt of shoving him ended up a failure when I lost balance and landed flat on my face

"Whoa there kid, maybe you shouldn't be going anywhere but back to bed?" came Goose's voice as he helped me to my feet. "You okay?"

I glared up at him as I readjusted my baseball cap. A smirk was still on his face.

"That there was you're fault" I pointed out with a scowl, only to get a clap on the shoulder.

'Never my fault kid," replied my idiot brother with a wink. "Never my fault."

* * *

When we returned around two hours later, after Mr. Never-My-Fault spilt all off his Coca Cola on the floor at McDonalds, a figure waited for us outside our motel room door. It was Dad. Dean's protective instincts kicked in as he pushed me behind him as we approached Dad.

"Hey, now a good time?" Dad asked hopefully, glancing between my brother and I.

Dean nodded as he went to open the door. He opened the door and held it open so that I could enter first. I scuffled in, still studying my father's behaviour. He was sober, which was a good thing. Honestly, you could've heard a pin drop in the room. I hung back, aware of the tension being radiated between my brother and father.

"Why didn't you call?" Dean asked with no emotion present, trying hard to hold back his anger.

"Told ya earlier, I wanted to see you, check up on you," replied Dad, keeping his cool. "Make sure everything was okay."

Dad then glanced over at me and gave me a small smile.

"Hey peanut," he said. "How are you?"

I still kept my distance, the Doppelganger was still in control and she might strike out.

"Hello Dad" I replied simply.

Dad tilted his head at me as he gazed down at me, he frowned slightly.

"You look tired, you sure your okay?" he asked, to which I gave a quick nod. "What have you two been up to?"

Small talk is always painful.

"Nothing much" I said, still trying to keep calm.

I glanced over at Dean who then cleared his throat and took over with the conversation.

"We hit up a few hunts recently," Dean added, trying to keep the peace with words that shouldn't cause trouble. "Chris is really on her way to becoming a hunter."

Dad glanced over and smiled at me again, motioning me over with his hand. I slowly ventured over. Part of me wanted to jump into his arms and snuggle up to him. The other part of me, the Doppelganger, wanted to finish the pounding I had attempted to give him earlier. However I relented and went to Dad, wrapping my arms around him in a big bear hug. Tears filled my eyes as Dad returned the hug, hoisting me off the ground as he did so. I breathed in his familiar scent of leather and gun powder, salt and sweat. No stench of alcohol present on him at all. I looked up at him and grinned.

Dad then placed me back down before leveling himself with me, cupping my face in his large hands.

"So you've been hunting huh, you okay, no injuries?" he asked, studying my face closely.

I kept my mouth shut. Best not to mention the Baba Yaga incident. Why couldn't the nice moments just last, huh?

"I wasn't hunting, I did some of the research though" I replied truthfully as I gazed up at my father.

"That's great Chrissie" responded Dad, planting a kiss on my forehead, an action which made Dean literally growl. Dad's next statement took me by surprise. "We should go out and do something. Like a movie or miniature golf."

I blinked up at him in disbelief. This felt strange to me yet I welcomed it as it was something new. This was way to good to be true.

"Really?" I asked, making sure I had indeed heard him correctly.

Happiness is limited in my mind and as usually something came along to ruin the moment.

"Umm, no Dad, she needs to get some rest," Dean interrupted. "Maybe another time."

I whipped my head around and narrowed my eyes at my big brother, who was fixing his intense gaze on Dad. He was in full guard dog mode and Dad was regarded as an intruder.

"Why?" I demanded, to which Dean leveled himself down to my level as he tried to steer me away from Dad slightly. "Dean why?"

I folded my arms, waiting for my brother to answer but he was busy glaring at our father.

"It's okay sweetheart," said Dad, placing his hands on my shoulders, his tone sincere. "We'll go another time."

What if there wasn't another time. For once, Dad was making an effort and my brother was becoming a jerk about it.

"No! Daddy I wanna go with you!" I insisted before glaring up at my brother. "Dean, why can't I go?"

I clenched my fists, shooting tiny deadly daggers at my big brother, before a sudden realization hit me. Word vomit gushed out of my mouth as I glared up at him.

"You. Are. Not. My. Dad!" I screeched.

I couldn't catch the words as they spat out in horrid torrent. How could I say that! Oh the look on my brother's face as he stared at me in stunned silence, how could I say such a cruel thing to him. I could see the tears stinging in the back of his green eyes. Unable to look at him, I catapulted myself into Dad's arms.

"Don't leave her alone" were his only words as he marched across the room, keys in his hand, slamming the door behind him.

I shuddered as the door slammed shut before bursting into tears. My Doppelganger was cackling with laughter inside my head, mocking my despair.

"I didn't mean it like that!" I wailed.

I looked at the door, my vision clouded by tears, before making a dash for it.

"I gotta go get him!" I wept.

How could I be so harsh. I'm so stupid. That was by far the worst thing I have ever said.

"Oh no you don't," said Dad, grabbing me around the waist and guiding me away from the door. ""He'll be back, he just needs time to cool down honey."

I wasn't in the mood for battling, my arms went limp instead of thrashing around.

"But I didn't mean it! What if he doesn't come back?" I hiccupped as tears continued to stream down my cheeks. "He takes care of me, what have I done?"

Dad then scooped me up in his arms, carrying me bridal style towards my bed. My face buried in his collar, my arms around his neck.

"You were just angry, he knows you didn't mean anything by it," Dad soothed, placing me on the bed. "He knows how much you love him kiddo."

It was ironic how the situation had been completely reversed. I threw myself against the mattress. Dad rubbed my back soothingly as I cried, not leaving my side. Being a father, for once. Regardless to his presence, my heart continued to ache painfully.

"Don't worry sweetie, he'll be back," assured Dad. "C'mon this is Dean we're talking about, he's just pissed off. I'm not gonna leave you, so why don't you calm down and talk to me. I've missed you so much."

With a very heavy and hurting heart, I rolled onto my back in order to gaze up at my father.

"I'm sorry Daddy" I sniffled, regressing into a small child.

Dad cocked his head curiously as he gazed down at me, removing my baseball cap and tossing it onto the bedside table. One of his hand smoothed down my hair in an attempt to console me.

"Sorry for what sweetheart?" he asked, genuinely perplexed by what I was apologizing for.

I wiped my running nose with the back of my hand, sniffing noisily as tears continued to glide down my cheeks.

"For being mean and cruel to you," I said tearfully "I'm so sorry."

My words stunned Dad as his eyes softened, a sight which was rare to see.

"Baby, you were never mean and cruel. I'm the one that should be apologizing, for a lot of things," he said. "I'm the one that keeps leaving and not taking care of you myself. I'm the one that should be apologizing to you for how I act when I've been drinking."

I sniffed again, followed by a barrage of hiccups. Dad's thumb swatted away at my ever flowing tears.

"The only person you need to be apologizing to is your brother. He obviously thought you needed to stay put for the night for whatever reason," Dad added, raising an eyebrow. "That outburst seemed a bit harsh, don't you think. He may not be your father kiddo, but he is your guardian and elder and knows what's best for you."

I buried my face into the pillow, letting Dad's words sink in. The Battleship Winchester was sinking and I was alone, trapped, as the second in command was abandoning ship, disappearing in the last remaining life boat.

* * *

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	33. I Live in a Lion's Den

**Thanks to Alyssa Ray for her help with the dialogue in this chapter.**

* * *

_I'm standing in the middle of a dark, silent corridor. Moonlight filters in from the cracks of the boarded up windows. The outfit I'm wearing resembles something that a kid in the 1900s would have worn. The grey flannel dress makes me look even more pale than I already am, and the white laced apron stinks of starch. As I walk down the corridor my polished black boots make the floor boards creak with each tentative step._

_A cold breeze gushes past, making my hair move. There was a freakin bow in my hair too. The sound of a piano playing drifts down the corridor as I continue to walk. It's a haunting tune that sends shivers down my spine. _

_I open the door at the end of the corridor and find a long spiral staircase. Taking a deep breath, I attentively make my way down each step as the creepy melody continues to play. The atmosphere becomes more chilling as I venture into a large room. A single candle flickers nearby. _

_A grand piano comes into view as I slink further forward, and my breath hitches with fear as I discover what is playing the piano. Dressed in a ragged dinner suit that was smeared in blood, was a man. The man's hands are almost skeletal, the bones visible at his knuckles, his fingernails are charcoal black. I let out a gasp. His head is missing. _

_The music stops and suddenly the headless piano player lunges at me, a horrible moaning sound echoes throughout the room as I start to run back up the stairs. _

_Panting with fright I charge back along the empty corridor, aware that the headless dude is following me. Then it comes to my attention, I'm trapped. The corridor reaches a dead end and I can't go back the way I came as I would run into the headless guy. _

_Like a scared infant I hide in the corner of the wall, squeezing myself between a chest of drawers and a bookcase. However the headless man finds me. A terrifying moan zooms into my face as the headless figure looms over me, a skeletal hand reaches out to grab me. I react and scream in terror._

* * *

I woke with a start, gasping slightly. My God, that was a horrible nightmare. Bleary eyed, I scanned around the dimly lit room. Ignoring my exhaustion and recent nightmare, I eased my head off the pillow as I continued to search the darkness.

"Daddy?" I called out, sitting up which caused the bed sheets to crinkle with the movement. "Daddy where are you?"

My eyes continued to search as I found myself alone. It wouldn't surprise me if Dad was gone. I was wrong.

"It's alright, I'm still here," came Dad's gruff reply. "Just go back to sleep."

That put my mind at ease, well a little. I still couldn't believe what I said to Goose. I should head to France and sign myself up for the Guillotine because I'm so ashamed of myself. The bed dipped and I was aware of being lowered onto the old mattress again.

"It's okay baby," came a very familiar voice. "I'm here too."

My brother had returned. Deep down I knew he would never leave or run away.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled, winding my skinny arms around his neck, almost strangling him. "The things I said, I'm so sorry."

My brother hushed me as he eased my arms from his neck, a kiss was planted on my forehead and a hand ruffled my hair.

"Go back to sleep okay, we'll talk about it tomorrow." Dean replied, his voice quiet.

A minute or two later, I was sound asleep again. Thankfully I wasn't reunited with the headless guy, instead I was locked in a fierce battle against Team Rocket.

The sun was glaring in the blue sky and was beaming into the room, blinding me as I woke. As I sat up, it came to my attention that my hair was a frazzled mess of fluff. I looked across the room to find Dean sitting at the kitchenette table, reading a newspaper.

"Dad went to get some breakfast, he'll be back," he said, before gazing back across at me. "And we need to talk. So, what was that all about then, huh?"

Obviously, this was a situation that couldn't be ignored. I swung my legs over the bed, keeping my head down.

"I'm so sorry" I whispered forlornly.

Putting down the newspaper, my brother returned his focus on me. I hurt him bad last night with those harsh words. Even now I still was kicking myself over and over again.

"Okay, and I'm glad you are," he said, his tone serious. "We have to do something about this Chris. Well, what do you think? You know how often I've had to get on your case about this whole controlling your temper thing. You basically disobeyed a direct order."

I'm so ashamed of myself. Doppelganger is laughing at me again, taunting my misery.

"I don't mean to break the rules," I said, regret lacing my voice. "I'm sorry."

I can't stand it when Doppelganger is in charge, it's like my personality changes completely. When she is in charge I become moody, bad tempered and over emotional. I hate it.

"I know, but me telling you isn't doing any good, so we need to figure something else out," sighed Goose. "Look, what you said last night really hurt me. All this rage is only gonna put you in danger, agreed. That's what I'm trying to explain to you."

I nodded, hopping off the bed and traveling over to him, before perching myself on his knee. His fingers tilted my chin up so that our eyes met, he then shook his head at me and sighed again.

"Well, what are we going to do about this?" he asked sternly. "I need to hear something from you."

"There's a monster inside me," I replied. "She's strong and just takes over whenever she wants to. She's in control right now."

I could tell Goose wanted to laugh at that point but he knew I was being serious and it would be in bad taste to make jokes.

"So Chrissie, how do we tame this monster?" questioned Goose, his eyebrow cocked slightly. "No TV for a week, a few extra miles, a spanking, what? Because I hate to tell you kid, you need to be punished for last night, there is no way around it."

I figured that hours ago. I deserve all forms of punishment ever invented in the world.

"I know that" I answered glumly.

My brother studied my expression closely before letting out another tired sigh. I was gonna give him gray hairs before he reached thirty, or be the cause of him having a stroke or heart attack.

"Before I decide anything, I need to know where all of that anger came from last night," he added with a slight frown. "Since when do you not listen to me?"

I have issues, I've know that for years. Repressing all of my emotions is the easiest way to cope but it is messy when it reaches boiling point. Dean's one to talk, he is the poster boy at keeping everything inside. My gaze traveled to my hands.

"I honestly don't know where the anger comes from" I answered truthfully, my voice small.

I hung my head, still deeply ashamed about my words and actions from the night before.

"Well can you ask your doppelganger to help you out with the explanation," he asked me in all seriousness, a hint of sternness in his voice. "Because it appears as if she is a big part of the problem. Either way we need to figure this out. Now."

I shook my head sadly. There was no way that would happen, not with doppelganger in charge.

"I'm being stupid," I said. "Ignore me. I'm just being weird again."

I've always said that _weird _was my middle name, and I'm not being funny about it. I really am weird.

"No, you are not being stupid, or weird, and I won't ignore you," my brother said as he cupped my chin again. "So I want you to do something for me, you can consider it part of your punishment, I want you to write down things you can do to keep your cool a bit better, kind of like a plan of attack, okay?"

Seems reasonable enough. I gazed into my brother's eyes, a sense of sadness burned inside me, hanging over me like a big black cloud.

"I never meant to hurt you" I said to my big brother, my eyes wide glazed with regret and sorrow.

A kiss was planted on my exposed forehead as he gave me a tight squeeze, with me still balanced on his knee like some parakeet.

"I know you didn't," said Goose. "That is why I need a plan of attack, so we don't have to go through this again. I hate when you feel like this, and I hate having to get on your case. But kid let me tell you something, this is it! Next time I promise the consequences are going to be much worse, you got me."

Swallowing I gave a small nod in response. I didn't like the sound of that threat. Afterwards I was instructed to go wash up, which I did. All of my clothes were needing laundry and the only clean outfit was some old blue and white gingham dress. I yanked it on alongside my thick black socks and high tops. I looked like Dorothy from _The Wizard of Oz_, and it was a good thing that my high tops weren't red because I knew I'd get taunted all the way to the centre of the freakin' Earth if they were. My brother eyed my clothing choice when I exited the bathroom. It was obvious that I needed new clothes. As soon as I reached him, he handed me a notebook and pen, without saying a word to me as I sat down.

Paper has a funny smell in my opinion, it's like I can get the sense of the woods from where it came from. Yeah I know, that's a pretty strange way of thinking. I stared at the notebook, drumming the pen against the kitchenette table in an irritating manner.

"Kid, if you don't start writing and stop drumming, I'm gonna drum your butt for a while," Dean snapped, his tone annoyed. "Then you are gonna run five miles, so take your pick."

My right hand became animated as I began to scribble down words and sentences, the pen scratching against the paper. It took me twenty minutes to complete the task my brother gave me. Goose took the notebook and looked over it:

* * *

_How to Control the Weird Mind and Behavior of Christina M. Winchester._

_1. Avoid tantrums at all costs, if not it will lead to my ass being spanked till the cows come home._

_2. If in doubt about something, ask Goose. He always knows what to do. _

_3. Being a moody brat only leads to arguements. _

_4. Good behaviour leads to rewards (Yeah I know, I'm pushing it)_

_5. Don't annoy Goose when he is hungover or cranky._

_6. If Doppelganger tries to make trouble, ignore her and tell her to shut it._

_7. If ever in school, avoid trouble, mischief and fights like the Plague._

_8. Bart Simpson is not an ideal role model._

_9. Don't parrot curse words._

_10. Don't use violence if in a bad mood._

* * *

"This looks good" he said, offering me a small smile.

My expression of thank you was by giving him a hug before returning to my chair. I still felt shame regardless. I would never forgive myself for saying that to my brother who had basically raised me since he was twelve years old.

"So, you do know that you need to put this little plan of attack into action, right?" asked Goose. "If you don't it kind of defeats the purpose. No more of this temper Chris, seriously, it's hurting others and even you, and that is not cool at all."

I didn't utter a single word, as I just kept my head down. My bare legs swung back and forth as they dangled over the chair, the rubber heels clicking together every now and then.

"So, I think we are good here," my brother said, looking down at me, a smile on his face. "One question though, do you understand what is going to happen next time Chris?"

I nodded.

"I'll get my ass kicked if I act like an immature baby again" I said, my expression deadpan.

My brother released a tiny chuckle before smirking slightly.

"Well that's one way to put it," he smiled, ruffling my hair. "Do you have any questions?"

I shook my head. Goose then traveled over to the motel room window and waited for Dad to make an appearance.

"What if he doesn't come back?" I said, watching my legs swinging back and forth. "What if he's ditched us again?"

My tone had a hint of disappointment. I knew it was too good to be true. Why do I bother getting my hopes up when I know that I'm only gonna get hurt and disappointed. Emotions that I'm all too familiar with. I folded my arms, placing them on the kitchenette table and as I rested my chin on my arms, I let out a sigh. My head then lifted abruptly at the sound of a key twisting around in the lock of the door. I held my breath as the door opened, it was Dad.

"Why so glum princess?" he asked as he glanced over at me, dumping down the paper bag he was carrying. "What's up?"

_Princess_? _Really_? I'm _eleven _years old. I'm too old for _that _nickname. Then again, this is Dad. Dad ventured over towards me, kneeling down on his haunches in order to level himself with me. His hands rested on my bare bruised knees as he gazed up at me. I took a deep breath.

"Uh, I got into trouble. Had to make a plan," I started. "My temper is bad news and my evil doppelganger inside me has really got to take up residence somewhere else. Oh and you came back."

The words flew outta my mouth, giving me no time to breathe. Dad blinked at me, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Anyone up for taking some rounds with the shotgun? I found a field nearby," declared Dad suddenly, clapping his hands together as he rose to his full height. He gazed down at me with a hopeful expression on his face. "What do you say princess, wanna shoot some shit?"

I glanced over a Dean, who was sitting stony-faced on the bed. Shotgun? For real?

"I haven't been taught with the shotgun yet," I replied. "I'm still learning with the .45 handgun and rifle."

I'd hate to see the chaos I'd unleash if somebody gave me a loaded shotgun.

"Yeah Dad, not sure that's such a good idea," Dean responded. "This one hasn't exactly been on her best behavior and I'm not sure putting a gun in her hands is a smart idea right now."

Oh yeah, like I'm gonna burst into the freakin' Hulk and go crazy and shoot all the birds in the sky, including Bambi's Mom. I glowered at my brother. He was acting like the parent again. Dad traveled over to Dean and stood in front of him, his arms folded across his chest.

"Son, last time I checked I was her father, and your father as well as your elder," Dad said, with a hint of drill sergeant in his voice. "Do I need to order you two to come shoot a couple of rounds with the old man?"

That depends on Goose and his feelings. Dean didn't respond and this annoyed Dad. Dad was the one person you could never ignore, you wouldn't dare. The tension in the room became noticeable, I bit my lip as I watched my brother challenge our father.

"Suddenly you care," stated Dean bluntly, glaring up at Dad. "For the record, I know Chris better than anyone."

Hey! Don't involve me. I hate it when fights and arguments erupt over me. My brother glanced over in my direction, and I can honestly say that he looked ready to explode. This was gonna be fun.

"I'm her father!" boomed Dad.

I couldn't stop myself from shrinking away at the sound of my father's anger. Uh oh, here we go.

"If I want to take my daughter to shoot a few rounds, I will," frowned Dad, lowering his voice slightly as he sensed my anxiety. "As long as she would like to go with me that is."

Dean still looked pissed, squaring Dad up, which I don't think was the wisest thing to do. Dad glanced over in my direction.

"Do you wanna go sweetheart?" asked Dad in a sweet tone, which sounded very alien to me. "It would give us a chance to spend some time together. Would you like that?"

What do I say? My gaze shifted between my Dad and brother. I was starting to get worried, even get scared. I didn't wanna say the wrong thing as I knew whatever answer I gave, somebody was gonna get upset and offended.

"You'restaying right here," Dean ordered me, he then pointed a finger at Dad. "And _you, _are leaving."

Dad hated this idea with a passion and lunged at my brother, grabbing his shirt collar. Dean froze at Dad's violent reaction but quickly recovered before taking a swing at him. I let out a frightened squeak as Dad lashed out in retaliation, knocking Dean onto the couch.

"What the hell son!" yelled Dad, his face purple with rage. "Really, all I wanted to do was spend some time with you and your sister, and _this _is how you react?"

Sliding from the chair, I took refuge under the kitchenette table, something that I had done often as a small kid whenever a family feud was on display.

"What right do you have to her?" demanded a furious Dean, his bottom lip was spilt and bleeding. "To _us_?"

Oooh I hate this! Pulling my knocking knees to my chest, helpless as my Dad and big brother continued their wrath fuelled argument. Dad got right in Dean's face, breathing heavy, daring him to make the next move. Dean turned away and in the next breath punched Dad hard enough to knock him backwards.

"You gave her to me," growled Dean. "You don't get a say anymore!"

My Dad refused to back away from his side of the dispute. Man, I feel like a carnival sideshow prize. Stop fighting over me!

"Dean, she is still my daughter and I have a right to see her," sighed Dad, rubbing a hand across his face. "I just wanna spend some time with her, what's wrong with that? Why are you against it?"

"You're gonna hurt her again," replied my brother. "I know you will. You do it all the time. I'm the one who always picks up the broken pieces whenever you make a mess."

Goose was right on that statement. My Dad is a good man though, I could never doubt that. He tries to provided and do good for us but struggles to cope with his mental woes.

"I'm not gonna hurt her by taking her to shoot a couple targets and then take her out for ice cream, son," Dad replied. "Give me a chance with Chrissie. Please."

I emerged from under the table, wandering over to them slowly. It was like entering a lions den.

"Dean's right though, Daddy" I commented, to which they both gazed down at me.

"Why would you say that princess?" questioned Dad. "I know I've hurt you in the past, but that is not why I'm here now. The last thing I wanna do is hurt you."

"Don't call me princess," I grumbled. "Stop calling me that. I hate it."

Sounded a little too harsh I know, but hopefully that got the message across and he would stop calling me it. Dad was taken aback.

"Okay," he responded. "Do you not want to go with me Christina, because I can leave if that is what you really want."

I shrugged miserably, my skinny arms smacking my boney hips as they flopped at my side with the movement.

"I don't know what I want," I said, my tone expressing my upset to which Dad made a move towards me, making Dean growl. "I'm sorry Daddy, for causing all this trouble."

"Baby, you are not causing any trouble," replied Dad, leveling himself with me. "I just wanna spend some time with my little girl, that's all. No hidden agenda here, okay. Just some time together."

At least the argument has died a quick death, hopefully it would resurrect itself again.

"Daddy, can you give me and Dean a couple of minutes?" I asked him, making my eyes go large like a puppy. "Please?"

"Sure," answered Dad, smoothing down my hair in a gentle manner before planting a quick kiss on my forehead. "I'm gonna go get some coffee, I'll be back soon."

His reply was very short and in a flash, the door closed behind him. I glanced up at my big brother.

"You're lip's bleeding" I pointed out in a small voice, aware that he was still pissed.

"I'm fine," he grunted in response, glaring down at me. "You really wanna go with him, be my guest."

"Dean, please," I said. "Why are you being this way?"

My brother shook his head at me, a glower still on his face.

"I'm not being anything Chris," he replied, making his way to the bathroom. "I told you, go ahead."

I followed him, I wasn't letting him shut the door in my face. Being moody was _my _job, not his.

"What?" Dean questioned abruptly, turning on his heels.

Placing my hands on my hips I stared up at him, I narrowed my eyes in questioning manner.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

If there was more information, stuff my brother didn't want to share with me.

"I don't wanna see you get hurt, Chrissie," he remarked. "You know what he can do, how he can treat you. You shouldn't witness that."

My brother got down on his haunches making himself leveled with me, he then cupped my face with his calloused hands.

"Chrissie, you should spend time with him if that's what you want to do," he said. "It's your choice."

I bit my lip, bringing my courage forward to ask the next question whilst praying I wasn't gonna get snapped at.

"What about you?" I questioned.

"What about me?" Dean replied. "You want me to go with I will, but I'm not doing it for him."

His hands came away from my face, although our gaze hadn't been distrupted.

"Why do you hate him?" I asked, cocking my head.

Seemed like a very stupid thing to say. Still, I was curious about my brother's answer.

"Are you serious? Look what he's done to you and Sammy," responded Dean. "He made us give up everything we had left to live this life Chris. Then he get's mad that this is the life we lead and takes it out on us. How am I supposed to feel? Besides, I _don't _hate him, I'm just not liking him all that much these days."

Like I've said before, my Dad is a good man and sometimes it's hard to be believe that fact.

"He's our Dad," I stated simply as I gazed at my brother. "You're not pissed off at me or anything? I'm really sorry about what I said to you last night."

It's a wonder that I got to sleep last night because of my guilt ridded conscience, but all the crying wore me out and I slept as soundly as a corpse until I had that nightmare.

"No, kid, that business is over and done with," Dean assured me. "Dad's just pissed me off, that's all. This has nothing to do with you. Promise."

I raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Really?" I asked.

A small half-hearted smile tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth, his bottom lip was still slightly bleeding.

"Really" he returned.

What choice do I make? Do I spend time with my Dad? Yes or No? My skittish mind was wary of the situation but it was my heart that eventually won. Can you guess my answer?

* * *

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	34. Daddy Time Featuring a Moody Dean

**Here is a new chapter. Might be a little short. Enjoy!**

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Dad has always been a mystery to me, I know very little about him. The only things I know is that he was in the Marines and had fought in Vietnam for a period of time, to which afterwards he met my Mom. What's his favorite football team? Does he prefer ice hockey or basketball? Where and how did he meet Mom? Where are my grandparents from his side of the family, if their still alive that is? Little things like that and I have no idea.

The top of my head felt exposed as I forgot to take my baseball cap before I left with my Dad. A silence had settled in Dad's truck, which was cruising along the quiet road. Now what? Was I supposed to start a conversation? _Me_? Thankfully Dad jumped ahead in front of me and made the first step at socializing.

"Where do you wanna go?" he asked, briefly glancing at me yet still remained focused on the road. "Anywhere you wanna go. You name it. My treat."

I'd love to go to the solar system but that is impossible at the moment and besides I don't own a rocket. Shame really. You'll be a grade A idiot not to notice the sarcasm in that statement. With my hands clasped together on my lap, my eyes rotated upwards in Dad's direction. My shoulders shrugged in reply.

"Food, I guess," I answered, my voice small. "I don't really care about where we go."

I've come to notice something, I'm becoming more cynical and ballsy as I get older. Compared to when I was five, I would have burst into tears at the slightest scare or taunt. My humor has always been a bit weird, the things I come out with sometimes makes people raise an eyebrow. To hell with it I say, I am who I am. It just sucks to be me most times. Dad looked down at me again, a small frown developing on his face.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked. "Why the long face? I thought you'd be happy to get outta that old motel room."

True, I did wanna get outta there but not under this frame of mind. I felt so guilty for choosing Dad over Dean, and the emotion was eating away into my brain like a worm burrowing into the flesh of an apple.

"I've upset Dean again, I know I have," I said. "I saw the look on his face as we left, it was as if I had kicked him in the balls and he was trying not to scream."

Dad let out a tired sigh, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. The very last thing I wanted to do was to hurt my brother's feelings and even though he put's on the whole macho badass act, deep down I know he has emotions. I can read him like a book. People always say that I express loyalty and knowledge beyond my years.

"He is an adult, Chris," responded Dad. "For eleven years, he knows how to handle difficult situations. You shouldn't have to worry about him. Give him space and he'll come around."

I remained silent for the rest of the journey to a small diner, and only began speaking in longer sentences once our food was placed in front of us. Come to think of it, when was the last time I ate something that wasn't potato chips and baked beans. You wouldn't think by looking at me, since I'm as skinny as a toothpick, that I can eat like a horse.

"When was the last time you had something to eat?" questioned Dad as I began nibble hungrily on a garlic buffalo wing. "My guessing is that you could eat the whole kitchen outta stock."

Dad had clearly mistaken my appetite for Dean's bottomless gut. No kidding, the way my brother eats sometimes makes me feel ill. I tossed the bones of the wing onto the plate and then moved onto my double bacon cheeseburger and fries. Dammit, there was an ugly dark green pickle on the side as garnish. If there is one food I hate with all my soul, it's pickles. Closely followed by mushrooms which I reckon are very slimy and resemble slugs.

"Why did you come back?" I probed Dad, my cheeks puffed out like a hamster as I chewed.

My guessing was that he had been confronted with a problem of some sort and he needed the backup from my brother. Dad gazed across at me as he let out a tiny sigh, settling his glass of Coca Cola down in the process.

"What you have to understand, Chrissie, is that I would do anything to protect you from all the crap out there," he said, his tone soft. "I never meant to hurt you, or your brother. Since Sam ran away, you two are all I've got left."

As I swallowed down the lump of undigested food, my doleful eyes fixed on Dad.

"That doesn't answer my question," I replied. "Why did you come back? Tell me the truth, I'm not a little girl anymore so you can't hide stuff from me. It's not fair if you do."

Dad lowered his head. Aha! He did have an agenda after all. I knew it was too good to be true.

"I've caught scent of a gig in Kittanning, Pennsylvania," muttered Dad. "From what I've figured out so far, it points to a spirit."

He then produced a newspaper clipping from the inside of his jacket and then sliding it across the table in my direction. I picked it up, tracing over the text with my eyes, the small headline was in bold print:

* * *

**Local Family Claim Their House is Haunted. **

I continued to scan over the short article, my fingers grazing the thin paper:

_The Panowski family; Jerry (40), Miranda (37), Stephanie (16) and Wilma (76) believe their home is haunted after resent strange activities, which has caused them confusion and fear. Is it just superstition or true paranormal activity? _

_The elderly Wilma is certain that a spirit is present in her son Jerry's home, to which she says "It has an aura of sadness mixed with anger. It is hell bent on causing harm and chaos. The neighbors think we're crazy." Teenage Stephanie proves to be a skeptic over the situation. The high school Junior states "Grandma thinks she is some psychic. It's stupid, there is no such thing as ghosts. Our house is old anyway." _

_Whether it's true or false, this family continues to suffer behind closed doors. Either with a delusional idea or a serious problem._

* * *

I placed the clipping down to which Dad took it back, returning back inside his jacket pocket. Shaking my head in annoyance, I grabbed a French fry from my plate.

"Lemme guess, you've only crawled back because only need help with something," I commented, ripping the golden French fry apart with my teeth. "Dean was right, you don't give a rat's ass about us."

Dad didn't like that statement, a frown developed on his face as he looked directly at me.

"Listen up, and listen good because I don't wanna repeat this to you ever again," he said, a tiny glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "What have I always told you? Huh? You're my little girl. Your mother would come down from Heaven and beat me black and blue if anything happened to you or your brothers."

Dad then took hold of my small hand, giving it a squeeze of affection as he gazed at me.

"Every time I go away on a hunt, I always pray that I'm able to return. You can say and think all you want about me Chrissie, but I know one thing about you. You're incredibly brave and loyal," added Dad, his eyes soft. "Nothing stands in your way. Reminds me of your mother, she had those qualities too. She would be so proud of you."

Proud of what? How I'm a boisterous tomboy and how I thought it was hysterical to belch the alphabet aged seven. Yet I can get an understanding of where Dad is coming from.

"Dean always says that my bite is worse than my bark," I said with a sheepish smirk. "Word to the wise, Dad, don't step on the eggshells when I'm grouchy."

Dad let out a small chuckle and shook his head fondly at me as he let go of my hand. We left the diner another ten minutes later, making a quick stop at a gas station before returning to the motel. Armed with handfuls of new Pokemon cards and candy bars, I entered our room.

Dad thought the Pokemon cards were stickers for my sketchbook and at that point I was ready to go on my famous Pokemon rant whilst throwing the cards at Dad like ninja stars. On gazing at the couch I was confronted with the sight of my brother. He was nursing a bottle of beer, lounging on the moth eaten couch as if he was a jungle cat on a tree branch. Dad followed behind me and sighed at the site of my moody big brother.

"Ah, resorting to bribery to win your daughter's love," grunted Dean, taking a swing of his beer, he gazed at me briefly. "I'm surprised Dad, I thought you would've got her a pony."

Quietly I made my way over to the beds in order to store my new items in my old duffle bag.

"Don't start with me, boy," Dad cautioned. "_I'm _the parent remember. Why are you throwing a bitchy mood over me taking Chrissie out for the evening anyway? Aren't I allowed some time alone with her?"

I kept my head down as I rummaged through my bag, listening to the words being exchanged. Dad grunted when Dean didn't reply. Goose would snap outta the mood within the next couple of hours, my pestering and puppy dog eyes always seem to do the trick.

"Anyway, buck up, we're leaving for Pennsylvania in the morning," said Dad, making his way to the kitchenette. "It's time for Chrissie's first hunt."

Oh crap!

* * *

**What a week this has been for SPN fans. Jared and Gen are now parents and Misha is returning in tonight's new episode! Yay! Though I'm unable to see it because I live in Scotland and the UK are lazy arseholes when it comes to broadcasting the show. **

**Still I'm gonna watch it online first thing tomorrow morning. Happy days!**

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	35. What Makes A Good Hunter?

This was it, my time to prove myself worthy as a Hunter. However, my mind was clouded with doubts and worries. It would be out of character for me not to be worrying about something. I didn't wanna wake up at all, because I knew at the end of the day, I would be on the road again with my family. I remained curled in a ball underneath the stale smelling bed sheets, wearing an old nightdress that I've owned for about two years and yet it has never shrunk. That has to be more evidence on how much of a runt I am.

"Hey guys, get up!" came a familiar growl, a growl that belonged to my Dad. "Dean, make sure you both shower, then get this place packed and I'll be back with breakfast. I'll be back in ten, so get moving."

My brother vanished into the bathroom, the sound of the shower filtered into my hearing which made me curl into a tighter ball. After all the things I had encountered, why was I feeling scared now. In my mind, it's not right to feel scared. I didn't want to leave. It was strange because I've always hated getting left behind whilst everybody else was fighting and involved in the action, but this time I wanted to be left out.

Stretching my limbs like a cat, I uncurled myself from my shy armadillo position. The bones in my feet crunched as I wiggled my toes, my hips clicked as I shuffled in my position. Several minutes later, my brother appeared in front me.

"C'mon, get your ass up" he said as he shook his wet hair at me, wearing only a towel around his waist.

My eyes screwed up, as my hands defended my face from my big brother's 'wet dog' attack.

"What are you? A Labrador?" I hissed, becoming tangled in the once clean white bed sheets. "Cut it out!"

Dean rolled his eyes at me and took his clothes from his duffle bag, then closed the bathroom door again while whistling to Led Zeppelin. His hair is too short, so he can't pull that move off. There was the one and only master at that attack, and it was Sam. A swish from his mop of wet hair could cause serious damage, like tiny water droplets right in your eyeball.

"Hey, I'm the dude who's gonna save you from that bear who's gonna skin you alive for not being ready, so get up already," said Dean as he opened the bathroom door. "Go take a shower, and later you can sleep in the car, okay?"

I grunted loudly and rolled out of bed, landing heavily on my front on the floor. Ouch! My usual cat like reflexes failed me that time, making me look and feel like a fool.

"Chrissie!" Dean shouted, running towards me. "Are you okay?"

Apart from a slightly bruised ego, I was fine. At that moment, the motel door opened and Dad entered with a bag of food under his arm.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, the door slamming behind him as he placed the food down on the kitchenette table. "Chrissie? Why are you on the floor?"

I swallowed nervously as I gazed up at my father, who was now standing before me.

"I just fell outta bed," I replied truthfully. "Don't panic, I haven't broke my face or butt."

Dad sighed as he returned my gaze, his dark eyes becoming soft for a slight moment.

"Well, glad to hear that but it doesn't answer why in the hell you ain't ready." Dad answered. "C'mon, you need to get serious now and being a smart ass isn't the way to do that. Dean, help her up and get packing. I wanna get on the as soon as possible."

My brother helped me up, ignoring my disgruntled expression. After my shower, I gathered the rest of my things into my duffle bag. I was wearing a dark red t-shirt over of a long gray sleeved top and my old jeans and converse sneakers.

The smell of my greasy bacon and egg bagel make me feel even more queasy. Feeling too nervous to eat, I kept my head down.

"Dean, we'll take Route 9 til a cut-off about sixty miles in, then it'll get quite narrow, so stay exactly behind me, this way you won't get a flat tire or drive off the road" said Dad. He then slid a large folder across the kitchenette table, towards my direction. "And Chrissie, read this _before _we get there. Do I make myself clear, young lady?"

I raised a curious eyebrow as I inspected the folder. It contained various old newspaper articles, obituaries and black and white photographs from several decades ago.

"It's research. About our upcoming hunt," Dad replied. "Get your mind clear. Knowledge is the best form of hunting the supernatural."

Was I really ready to jump straight into the action? To be honest, I was scared and to be feeling scared seemed wrong. Especially with my personal experiences and knowledge.

"Dad, she knows," said my brother. "She's just tired."

Man, what's wrong with me these days. What happened to the kid who could floor a large gang of bullies? What happened to the kid who could hold back emotions? Oh, she is still there, but she is probably hiding. I was finally acting my age, an eleven year old girl. Yet, I'm different. Kids my age aren't meant to be fighting against monsters and creatures of nightmares. In reality, I should be in school plays, going to sleepovers and having fun with friends. I can't do these things. In another life maybe, just not this one.

"Don't pout, Chrissie," Dad stated, heading to the bathroom. "It's childish."

Pushing my smelly bagel away from me, I rested my chin on the kitchenette table.

"Are you sure you didn't get hurt or something?" Dean sincerely asked, leaning across the table to press his hand against my forehead.

I swatted his hand away and raised my head. My arms folded across my flat chest as I slouched in my chair.

"I'm fine" I mumbled.

Whenever that statement is said by any of my family members, you know it's an instant lie. My trusty baseball cap was facing forwards, signaling my sullen mood. It's been facing forwards a lot these days. What makes a good Hunter? I've been in the presence of many Hunters, some of them are legends within the Hunter circle. Being the amateur that I am, I felt like it was something I needed to know. When Dean was loading the car up, I confronted my Dad.

Dad knelt down at my level when I approached him. Even though I'm eleven years old, I'm a few inches smaller compared to all other kids my age. That sucks ass. He sighed as he removed my baseball cap with one hand whilst the other cupped the side of my face.

"I guess you being tired isn't the reason for your silent treatment," he said as he gazed into my eyes. "I really wanna get on the road, but I need to know what's eating you. From past personal experience, I can tell you that keeping crap inside will only eat you alive. Stress isn't something fun to keep inside, so you gotta let it out. Just talk to me. Okay?"

It always amazes me that people can have faith in me, but I struggle to find faith within myself.

"Can I ask you something?" I questioned. "It might sound stupid."

Dad cocked his head at me as he stroked my cheek. His eyes soft and caring. Damn, I have the ability to turn people into Care Bears due to my kicked puppy dog expression. I doubt this ability will last long, I'm getting old.

"Sweetie, you can ask me anything, anytime," Dad stated. "Although, I can be a bear at times, please always tell me what you're thinking."

How was I gonna say it without it sounding incredibly dumb? To Hell with it, I'll just come right out and say it.

"What makes a good hunter?" I asked my father, my puppy eyes working their magic.

My Dad probably thought I was worrying about something else, as I usually have a long list of anxieties.

"Well, first thing is to do your research. Then get organized and know what you're up against," replied Dad. Then he paused for a moment and tilted his head slightly. "What do you think makes a good hunter?"

I sighed heavily, whilst tugging on my left hair braid gently.

"That's the problem, I don't know," I answered. "You have to know how to shoot a gun in the right direction, I guess? You gotta be strong? Is that it?"

Pfft! Lifting heavy objects is a challenge for me, and just last week I was battling with the lid of a jam jar. I'm hardly _the Hulk _when it comes to strength. I forced spinach down my throat when I was younger and still nothing happened. Yet, I've always been blessed with speed and agility, which makes me think that I musta been a cat in my past life.

"Well, yeah. Physical strength is necessary, but mental strength will always be number one," replied Dad. "If you're mentally prepared, then your physical stamina will take over. This has nothing to do with you being a female, okay?"

I sighed as Dad stroked the side of my cheek, planting a kiss on my forehead. My aging baseball cap was returned to it's rightful place on my head, I then grabbed my bag and ventured outside to join my brother in the car.

The beginning of the long car journey with my brother was very silent, to the point when it got boring. I sat with my head down, my nimble fingers playing with a thread that dangled from my long sleeved shirt that was underneath my t-shirt. The answer that Dad gave me was a very valid point, yet it didn't seem to have enough information. I was searching for a true answer that spoke to my mind. My eyes briefly drifted up towards my brother, who was following Dad's truck.

"Hey Dean, can I ask you something?" I asked. "It might sound silly though."

He removed his sunglasses, a stupid ass grin on his face but his expression gave me a warm reassurance. The only reason he was wearing sunglasses was he claimed it made him look badass and cool. In my opinion, he looked like a _Men in Black _wannabe.

"Sure thing, kiddo," smiled my big brother, glancing down at me whilst keeping his eye on the road ahead. "What's up?"

I tilted the tongue of my baseball cap, bringing my eyes out of the shadow that the cap cast over them.

"What makes a good hunter?" I quizzed, my expression radiating curiosity.

I'm pretty sure my brother was expecting me to ask him something more weird, and that way he could make up some bull shit answer.

"Well, first you need a six foot one, good-looking guy with green eyes and tons of muscles," Dean chuckled, raising his eye brows as he smirked at his own joke.

I gave him a blank stare, followed by a raised eyebrow. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I rolled my eyes at my brother.

"Yeah, not the answer I was looking for," I remarked, continuing to fiddle with the thread on my sleeve. "I'm being serious, dude."

My brother cleared his throat, his gaze focusing on the road and Dad's truck ahead of us.

"Uh, sorry. Basically a good hunter is someone who takes the time to research the demon he or she is after," answered Dean. "Then do everything in your power to stop that son of a bitch."

My nose tickled, causing it to twitch. I dunno why, but ever since I could remember my nose has done that whenever I'm either very curious or very confused. Makes me look like a rabbit.

"What if it isn't a demon?" I questioned. "It could be some big ass swamp monster or something? Hell, Big Foot might even be real, and we have to take him down. What would we do then?"

My brother smirked at the statement and rolled his eyes at me. I sighed yet again before slouching back on my seat, my arms folded across my flat chest.

"Baby, where is this coming from?" asked my brother, briefly glancing down at me. "Does this have something to do with Dad?"

Dad has put a lot of faith in me, a matter which I'm nervous about. What if I fail? I can't fail!

"Do you think I'm ready?" I wondered aloud, chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

It was very obvious that my brother had doubts of me getting involved in the hunt. Dad musta spoken some harsh words to him the previous, as he was now acting like his second in command again. Even though he wasn't aloud to speak out against the matter, Dean knew better. In his mind, I was still a child. He was right, even though all eleven years olds hate being referred to as a child. The car journey continued in a still silence, until I was allowed to play my mix tape and _Queen _started blaring throughout the car.

When we stopped for gas a few hours later, I took the opportunity to sneak into the female restroom. After finding a cubicle, I fished out my cell phone from my jeans pocket. Bobby was the first person I chose to call.

"Jeez, little lady, your call startled me." Bobby wearily replied. "It's still early. What's wrong?"

Sitting on the toilet seat Indian style was not the most comfortable position to have tangled myself in. I cradled the phone to my ear as I swallowed.

"It's my first hunt, Dad says it's a poltergeist," I stated. "Is it okay if I ask you a question?"

Next to my Dad, Bobby was the wisest person I know. Don't tell Dean that though, since he thinks he's some Greek God and has the mind of Einstein. In reality, he's got the intelligence of an earthworm. Again, don't tell him that, because he would beat my ass till the cows come home. Bobby would have the answer, surely?

"Sure, you need some research done or something?" came Bobby's reply from the other end. "Lay it on me, darlin'."

For the third time, I stated my question and hoped for a better answer than what I had heard before.

"What makes a good hunter?" I asked.

The cubicle was decorated in graffiti and it smelt very funky. Then again, toilets are supposed to stink.

"Good hunters are dedicated to the protection of the innocent and they understand the evil they're hunting. They are grateful for the privilege to hunt," answered Bobby. "A good hunter also practices gun safety, and obeys other hunters and thoroughly does the proper research."

Bobby did have a very good answer, and yet it somehow it wasn't really connecting with my way of thinking when it came to the subject. I had already figured that stuff out anyway.

"Do you think I'm ready, Bobby?" I added.

Bobby sighed from the other end of the phone line. He knew as well as I did the amount of danger and horror that was out there. My family was born with bulls-eye targets on our foreheads.

"Darlin', it's entirely you're decision on what you feel is best and right for you," commented Bobby. "But don't go hunting if you're not one hundred percent focused. You'll do just fine, so quit the unnecessary over thinking."

I nodded thoughtfully, knowing that I was over thinking about the tiniest thing. The call ended and a silence hung over the cubicle as I dialed the next contact in my cell phone. I was calling Sam. As soon as I heard his voice, I burst into tears like a complete baby.

"Oh Chris, what did Dad do now?" Sam asked, his tone sincere as he began to believe that some disaster and tragedy had hit us as a result of Dad's actions. "What's wrong?"

The tears that fell from my eyes glided down my cheeks, and the back of my free hand wiped my running nose.

"It's n-n-not D-D-Dad," I wept. "I-I-It's m-m-me."

It was so good to hear his voice again since I hadn't heard from him in about four weeks. We trade secret calls and text messages, something we try to do every two days. Regardless of this way of communicating, I still missed my brother terribly.

"Chrissie, obviously you're upset about something, so just tell me already," Sam stated. "I'm here for you, so nothing you say would shock me. Believe me."

My shoulders began to tremble as I cried quietly in the cramped toilet cubicle.

"D-Dad w-wants m-m-me to h-hunt" I announced suddenly, my sobs causing me to stutter with my words.

As predicted, Sam wasn't happy with my statement.

"God, that man never stops!" Sam huffed. "All he does is eat, sleep, drink and hunt."

Dad just wanted us to be safe that's all, yet I know Sam's point. He can be selfish and cruel sometimes, but he only does it so that he can protect us. He is the only true father we will ever get.

"I n-n-need an h-honest answer to my q-q-question," I gulped, thumbing my tears away with my free hand. "What makes a good h-hunter?"

My mind flashed, an image of Sam aged eleven years old appeared. He appeared to be asking the same question. Then the image suddenly vanished into thin air. Man, my imagination is seriously wild and very weird.

"Well, I can only answer from my personal experience, and that would be human instinct. As long as you have this, everything else will fall into place. Human instinct is what gives us an upper hand on all things evil, since they don't have it," said Sam, generating wisdom and truth from the manner and tone of his voice. "Just go with your gut instincts and you'll never be a bad hunter. "

No wonder he got a scholarship to Stanford. He was definitely the brains of the family.

"I miss you, Samwise" I sniffed, referring to a hobbit character from _The Lord of the Rings_.

My Sam was definitely not a hobbit, although I was. He probably was taller than Hagrid from _Harry Potter_.

"I miss you too, every day" Sam replied sadly.

It then dawned on me, like a flicker of a light bulb. I had the guts and growing knowledge to venture out into this frightening world. If any monster came near me and my family, I would rip it's balls off with my bare hands. In the end, it was Sam who gave me the strength to keep calm and carry on. Courage, don't you dare fail me now.

* * *

**I know it's been a while since I last updated but I was struggling with writer's block. Now thanks to the brilliant kissacazador! Everything should be in full swing again with this story. She helped write the chapter, so give her a cheer too.**

**If this chapter is meh! then I'm sorry but I promise it will get better. **

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	36. Batman VS Mud VS Cackling Hyena

I couldn't stop crying after my phone call with Sam. It was like parts of my heart and soul had turned rotten in his absence. Ever since I was little I had been prone to separation anxiety. Dean began to go on more hunts and training trips with Dad around the time I was six years old, which left me in the care and company of Sam.

We became more attached to each other during this period and around that time, he also gave me the nickname Shadow, because I used to follow him at his heels. I was no longer Shadow, because I had no host to cling onto.

After returning my cell phone back into my jeans pocket, I brought my knees to my chest as I continued to sniffle.

"I'm sorry for any ladies in here, it's just that I'm worried about my baby sister who's been in here, like forever," came Dean's voice. "Chrissie, I'm coming in. My eyes are closed."

It was only me in the rest room, because I believe no woman would walk into a stink hole like this, not without rubber gloves and air freshener that is. I hoped my brother wouldn't wander blindly into a cubicle and then trip over, which would result in him sticking his head down one of the toilets. Then again, that would be friggin' hysterical. He opened his eyes and found me standing outside the cubicle I had been hiding in.

"Chrissie, why are you crying?" he asked. His expression softened as I could feel my face crumpling. I was then pulled into a comforting and warm hug. "Awww, stop it. C'mon, tell me why you got a bug up your butt."

I hate that saying. Bug up your butt?! Really? That's one nasty image to conjure up. That would be horrible, having a million legged, four eyed bug up your crapper. Yuck! As my brother held my in a protective embrace, he began to sing _Hey Jude_. When I say sing, I actually mean brutally murder a classic.

"Do you want me to stop crying or not? If that's the case then I'd stop with the singing," I remarked with a sniff, tears still rolling down my cheeks. "Your singing makes my ears bleed. No offence."

My brother raised his eyebrows at me.

"Whoa, whoa, my singing is way better than McCartney, Lennon, Elvis and any other singer put together," he stated, whilst kneeling down at my level.

Yeah, in his dreams. My brother sounds drunk when he sings, and to which he tends to sing _ABBA _songs.

"Look, the old man will be kicking in the door any minute now. He won't be covering his eyes like I did, since he'll be wielding his double barrel sawn-off and blasting rock salt at us," Dean added with a smirk. "I don't feel like getting blasted with salt unless its by a stripper named Margarita, and in that case, she can salt me all she wants."

I sniffed noisily as I wiped my running nose with my sleeve. Even at eleven years old, I knew what an innuendo was and was used to my brother's frequent use of them within conversation. I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes as I gazed up at him.

"Why am I related to you?" I asked with a sigh.

We then returned to the car, to which Dad had been waiting on us with limited patience but his expression soften when he noticed my red rimmed eyes. Dad pulled me to the side while my brother sat inside the Impala.

"Dad, I'm sorry," I sighed, as Dad knelt down at my level. "I don't mean to be this way."

Dad chuckled at me, gazing deep into my eyes as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

"What way? The stubborn Winchester way?" Dad said, with a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You gotta talk to me, baby."

Stubbornness seems to be a family gene, one that has been passed down all generations, including me.

"Is it a bad thing to have doubts and worries?" I questioned, returning my father's gaze.

Okay, this has to be the dumbest statement I have ever made so far in my eleven years of life. I had my reason for saying it though, I simply wanted to hear my father's answer.

"Of course not!" replied Dad sincerely. "A human being has those everyday, especially parents. Is this about what we talked about earlier?"

When it comes to my family, they can read me like a damn book. If I was a book, I'd be a book on mental health probably. I nodded.

"A parent knows deep down when their child is unable to cope with pressure and i can assure you, Chris, you are ready," added Dad, cupping my face with his hands. I'm willing to bet our lives on it as well. I love you and need you. You've always been my brave girl."

My nose wrinkled as I chewed on the inside of my cheek, pondering my father's words.

"How do you know that I'm ready?" I asked curiously.

Dad smiled as he tucked another strand of loose of my wavy hair behind my ear. The rest of my hair remained secure within braids, for now anyway.

"Well, first of all, you're questioning yourself and we've all been there at some point. Secondly, I've seen your research. It's detailed and very precise," said Dad. "Lastly, I've seen you in action with your weapon training and you're doing real good. I just know these things because I can feel them in my heart. I'm your Dad."

Dad then pulled me into a quick hug, which radiated both warmth and security.

Dark clouds began to gather overhead and then news came in from the car radio that a storm was heading our way. This news resulted in us leaving the Impala behind until further notice. The storm began, causing us to take a detour on the way to our destination. Dad's truck couldn't cope with the bumpy road and mud, and the huge wheels ended up becoming lodged in the thick brown sludge.

While Dad called a contact which was most likely the guy who was being haunted by the suspected poltergeist, my big brother leaned over towards me.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "You want me to sing to you? I can do a mean _Master of Puppets_?"

I rolled my eyes as I leaned against him for support. Why offload all you're body weight onto a seat or pillow, when you have another human being sitting next to you.

"He'll make you go out and push the truck out the mud," I remarked with a smirk. "Plus it's raining and blowing a gale strong enough to take us all to the Merry Old Land of Oz."

It would be funny as Hell if Dad forced Dean outside to push the truck. I would be tempted to throw a mud ball at him just to see the expression on his face.

"Aww, touché. You sound a lot like Sammy." Dean snorted. "Except for one fact, you're way, way shorter."

I slapped him playfully across the chest because of that comment. For years I've bore the brunt of the short jokes, just like Sam get's picked on for being freakishly tall.

"Not my fault that I got the short straw from the gene pool," I said. My nose then wrinkled as I sniffed. "Could've been worse. I could've ended up like you."

I shudder at that very idea and thought. Can you imagine? Ewww!

"Well, I would say that you would be damn lucky to be a female version of me," chuckled my brother. "However, there can only be one truly awesome person on this Earth, so you lose."

He thinks he's so hilarious, when in fact his sense of humor sucks compared to mine. Don't tell him that, he would totally kick my ass various shades of black and blue.

"I'll say it again," I remarked with another eye roll. "Why am I related to you?"

What did I do so wrong in my past life to end up with this moron for a brother?

"Dad thought how amazing it would be to have someone else look up to me," smirked Dean. "Another Winchester to idolize me. I'm like the superhero of this family."

Oh please, this again? Ugh! I always have the same comebacks every time this topic comes up.

"Aquaman?" I commented with a snigger.

My brother looked horrified at my remark, in which he gently punched my arm.

"What?" Dean snorted. "He's like the gayest one, like Sam. I'm definitely Batman, so that makes you Robin."

Robin?! That dumbass bulls-eye target?! Hell no! I opened my mouth in protest.

"Why am I Robin?" I demanded, folding my arms. "Besides Batman isn't a real superhero. He only has gadgets. He doesn't even have any powers. Therefore, not a superhero."

Dean gasped in mock horror and disgust, delivering another tame punch on my arm.

"Bite your tongue heathen! He is the most epic amazing hero of all and I will not have my own sister speak against that," he laughed. "Anyway Robin is short and geeky, so if the tiny shoe fits."

Dad then finished his phone call and then ordered Dean to get out and try to push the truck while he figured out our next move. The rain was still pouring down hard and the wind was very strong.

"Dad, I could steer if you get out and pushed too?" I suggested, trying to be helpful.

Dad grinned at me as he clapped a hand on my shoulder, which was another way of him showing praise.

"That's a great idea," he said. "This is another step on what makes a great hunter. You came up with a fast and accurate plan to cope and deal with an unusual situation, thinking fast on your feet. I admire that a great deal."

His hand then moved in order to pet the back of my head, as if I was an obedient puppy.

"Pushing a truck outta the mud makes a good hunter?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, my focus on my Dad. "For the record, getting trapped in an elevator with a goat and chicken, that's unusual."

Dad laughed at my statement, before planting a quick peck on my forehead.

"You've been hanging around Dean way too much," he said. "And it also reminded me of Sammy. Alright, Miss Winchester, what is the first thing you're gonna do once you get into the driver's seat?"

Ah! Now I've discovered a single tiny flaw in that so called awesome plan of mine.

"About that. Yeah, you see there is one tiny problem," I stated, swinging my skinny legs which dangled a good few inches above the pedals. "I can't reach. I'm too small."

Dad paused, thinking over the situation and trying to come up with a easy solution.

"Hmmm, you make a good point," said Dad "Well, I guess that means you better get out and push then."

Thankfully, I managed to escape certain humiliation and strain. I was soon sitting on my father's lap and in charge of controlling the steering wheel, whilst Dad controlled the pedals. We could both hear Dean kicking up a fuss outside as Dad commanded him to push. The left side window of the truck was open.

"Why don't you get one of your epically cool gadgets to help you push the truck, Batman?" I called, poking my head out of the window, yet only to squeak when my hair got wet because of the rain.

My brother laughed sarcastically as he pushed the truck with all his might, the wheels shrieking against the pressure.

"Yeah, smart ass. Mock all you want since you're dry and…," Dean's words were interrupted as the truck suddenly took off, leaving him completely covered in mud from head to toe. "Son of a bitch!"

This was the moment I had been waiting for. Oh my God, it was such a sweet sight to see. I had literally morphed into a hyena as I was wheezing with hysterical laughter.

"That's freakin' funny as Hell," said Dean sarcastically, as he stood next to the truck. The rain began washing the mud off of him. "Must be friggin' nice to be warm and dry! I even have mud in my damn ass crack!"

Oh God! That is one image I don't wanna picture. Yuck! I continued to cackle at the sight of my big brother, looking as if he had just crawled up a sewer pipe.

"Hey, baby, there is a towel under the seat if you wanna hand it to your brother," said Dad, nudging me slightly. "It's somewhat clean, just like him."

I leaned over carefully, before grabbing hold of the towel. I gave my big brother a mischievous smile as I handed it over to him.

"Oh wow, you gave me a semi-clean towel. Aren't ya all heart, thanks Chris!" Dean mocked, cleaning himself off as best he could with the towel. "Well, that friggin' poltergeist better watch it's ass, coz I'm pissed off!"

The grin on my face slowly vanished. A strange buzzing sound began ringing in my ears. It sounded like a voice. Wait a minute? There wasn't just a single voice, but several. What was going on? As the strange voices continued to get louder and louder each second, my mind and imagination slowly began to dissolve into a stupefied daze.

* * *

**The wonderful kissacazador once again helped me with this chapter, and also within the upcoming chapters. She really is awesome! **

**Thanks again to all those who have reviewed and favourited both the story and myself. **

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	37. My First Hunt

I felt like I was floating around within clouds of mist, my hair billowing in the breeze. My restless mind kept conjuring up weird images and sounds that made no sense. Sounds and voices I swear I had heard before, yet my memory failed to recall any trace of recollection.

I could sense a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. This marks the start of my weird behavior again. I'm aware that I go off into my own world whenever this happens, but within my special, private world I get the feeling of peace and security.

It'll be something I can tell a stressed out psychiatrist when I'm dragged kicking and screaming into to a lunatic ward. Episodes like this are a common thing with me, making me even more of a freak. Suddenly, my peaceful daydreaming was disturbed by my Dad and brother.

"What the hell?!" I complained, as I brushed off grains of salt from my clothes. I glared up at my brother, whom was the culprit of the salt throwing. "What's with the salt? I'm not possessed!"

It's true, whenever I go into my weird mode, I tend to have salt thrown on me. It's like my family thinks my head is gonna start rotating like the kid from _the Exorcist. _Sheesh_. _

"I'm freakin' tired, that's why. I thought of the only thing to snap you out of that," Dean explained. "It worked though."

I shrugged off the incident, like I've always done in the past. As the journey continued, I could feel my eyes becoming heavier with each blink.

"We have about a three hour ride still since we lost so much time. You can rest on my shoulder," suggested Dad, gazing down at me whilst putting an arm around me. "Sleeping maybe impossible since we'll be off on the road soon and we're gonna bounce around quiet a lot."

My brother took the opportunity to throw in a witty and yet dumb remark.

"Nah, I'm good." Dean commented with a smirk. "Besides I'm the driver of this ugly ass truck."

Dad glared at my brother, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. He nudged Dean playfully, choosing to ignore the idiot's taste of humor. The car ride continued, and it was long and very bumpy, making it impossible to get comfortable. My eyes were becoming so heavy, and it seemed like I was almost drifting off into my mind again.

At one point, the road was so bumpy, Dean and I accidentally smacked our heads together, making us both grouchy.

"Damn, you have a hard-ass melon!" Dean growled, as he rubbed his head. "That hurt my brain!"

I narrowed my eyes up at him and scoffed, whilst rubbing my own damaged skull.

"I doubt you even developed one," I commented with a grunt, shoving him moodily. "Even if you do have one, the tiniest peanut in the universe would be bigger than it."

Man, I wanted to cry because I was so tired. I get real cranky when I'm tired, and apparently I've been that way ever since I was born. Several more long hours passed, and I still was restless. Dammit! I had been resting my head on her father's thigh, creating a pillow like effect. The hunt was still going ahead.

"Okay, we should be there in about twenty minutes," declared Dad, as he cleared his throat, establishing a strong authority in his voice. "I'll go inside and meet with Jerry, then get him and his family out, while you guys bring in the equipment needed. Please, make sure you keep everything dry. We'll set up in the living room."

My brother nodded obediently. The same brother would was fighting with the drill sergeant several days previous. Dad musta kicked his ass back into submission, because my brother was once again a solider who followed orders without question.

"Daddy?" I asked, my voice coming out in a childlike croak. "What will I do? I'm so tired."

Dad stroked my hair, as if I had morphed into a tiny kitten, which was snuggling against his leg.

"You'll help your brother set up and then you'll be in charge of the monitors," he stated, gazing down at me. "You need to stay sharp and watch for any slight movement. Maybe you can get a soda or a cup of coffee to keep ya awake."

I rubbed my eyes before pinching the bridge of my nose. Boy, I could sleep for a month. Dad frowned, and at some point I could hear the cogs and wheels inside his head turning.

"I guess you could sleep it off here in the truck, if you don't think you're physically up to it. It's gonna be very dangerous, since it's a poltergeist we are dealing with," suggested Dad, as he stroked my hair in a thoughtful manner. "Hmm, maybe, you're getting sick and that's why Dean had a hard time getting you up this morning."

No. I was just moody this morning, since I was near enough woken at the crack of freakin' dawn. Even though I was scared and worried about my first hunt, I wasn't gonna back away from it. Nothing or nobody would dare get in my way in achieving a goal that I was aiming for.

"You would just leave me?" I remarked, gazing up at my father with my best puppy dog expression. "Alone? Again?"

Being mollycoddled all my life has had some side effects. Separation anxiety is the main problem. When I was very little I hated being left alone for a single second, and I would cry non stop until a family member returned. Now, at eleven years old I still had some issues with being left alone. If I can outgrow a pacifier then I could outgrow my separation fear. Pfft, let's just see how that turns out. Failure, by my standards.

"We'll be right inside the house, but I really don't want too," Dad admitted truthfully. "I would rather have you watching our backs, but if you're too tired, then yeah."

I sighed heavily as I sat up, my focus soon returning to my grey faced Dad. Watching monitors, talk about fun. Not. I'm as tough as old boots as Bobby would often state, and it's true. I tackled a first grader when I was in kindergarten for God sake. Watching monitors?! To hell with that, I wanna wield a crowbar and beat up a ghost.

"I'm not weak" I commented, my expression deadpan.

It was Dad's turn to sigh as he cupped the side of my head, his eyes staring deeply into mine.

"I never said or thought you were," Dad replied. He then sighed again as he studied my expression. "Listen, we're all cranky and hopefully this will be over in a few hours, then we will head out somewhere special. I tell you what, if you promise to be careful, then I'll let you scan about upstairs with Dean will I watch the monitors."

My puppy eyes worked on my father, yet again. But, since I'm getting older the trick is beginning to go stale. Better use the ability while I still can. Before long, we had reached our location and soon me and my brother were scoping about upstairs. Iron crowbars at the ready in case of attack from the poltergeist.

From what I had gathered from the research, the spirit was named Bernard Kazinski. Kazinski was somewhat drawn the home owner's elderly mother, and the explanation of the haunting was complex. It had something to do with the old lady going off to marry another man while she was dating to Kazinski back in the late 1940s. Things reached a climax when the old lady was almost killed by Kazinski, yet Kazinski took his own life by blasting a shotgun right in his face. The whole story is very _Days of Our Lives_.

My whole life feels like _Days of Our Lives _sometimes. I hate soap operas, there so stupid. The don't hold a candle to great TV shows like _SpongeBob SquarePants_; _Pokemon_, _Dark Angel _and _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Remember how I once said that Dean has a TV twin, since the characters Ben and Alec from Dark Angel look like him. Well, I swear I saw the same guy on _Days of Our Lives _a few years ago.

As I entered the elderly woman's bedroom, which smelt like lavender and had a tint of cat scent about it, the air became freezing cold. I rushed to the window sill and poured salt along the edges. When Dean examined this room, he said the EMF was going crazy.

The hairs at the back of my neck stood on edge as a chilling shiver went down my spine.

"_I'll kill you!_" uttered a ghostly voice.

This caused me to drop the salt and brandish my crowbar. My eyes swiveled around the room, my ears sharp and ready to pick up the slightest sound. Cautiously, I moved towards the door. With one swift movement with my left hand, I tugged the tongue of my baseball to the side, signaling me going into fighting mode.

"_I'll kill you!_" repeated the gravely voice.

I spun around as the voice was right in my ear. What I saw horrified me, and caused me to scream. It was the disfigured spirit of Kazinski. His facial features horribly distorted due to the shotgun blast to the face; his eyes and hands dripping with scarlet blood.

My screams had alerted Dean in the next room. I could hear the thudding of his boots as he raced to my rescue. The door suddenly slammed in my brother's face.

"Chrissie!" he yelled, before he started to kick the door with all his might. "Chrissie!"

No matter how much I yanked and pushed at the door knob, I was trapped in some old lady's room with a ghost. Hooray!

"Dean!" I shouted, taking a swipe at the attacking ghost with my iron crowbar. "Dean, it's in here!"

My brother cursed like a trooper as I continued to deliver swipes at the poltergeist. Suddenly, my crowbar was wrenched from my hands as I was then hurled across the room.

"Ahhhhh!" I screamed. "Dean! Casper's beating me up! What do I do now?!"

I grimaced in pain as my back collided with the dry wall. Dean continued to kick at the door, desperate to get into the room. Dad's voice then sounded from behind the door. Both pounded on the door with all their combined strength. My baseball cap had fluttered to the ground since it came off my head due to the attack.

As I was tossed across the other side of the room, my Dad and brother burst into the room. My father was holding an axe in his hands, since he hacked half the door off.

"He's trying to teach me how to fly!" I yelped. My limbs thrashed around as I tried to break free from the force that the poltergeist was using against me. I was slammed into the dry wall once again, this time getting smacked in the face instead of my back. "Owwwwwww!"

Dad fumbled around with his lighter and an old black and white photograph of Kazinski and the old lady that lived here.

"Hey, you son of a bitch! Come and get me!" taunted Dean, as he was trying to distract the poltergeist. "Sure, its freakin' easy to attack a little girl, but are you man enough to try that shit on me!? C'mon, already! C'mon! I double-dare you!"

Without warning, the spirit dropped me from it's clutches. From the way it kept tossing me around, I think it was trying to send me flying out the window. It's howled as it lunged for my big brother. My brother ready with his own iron crowbar. The bedside table zoomed into view as I plummeted to the ground. I slammed my forehead on the corner of the medium sized table, causing me to land and bounce on the bed. With a squeal of pain, I landed heavily onto the carpet. The fresh gash on my forehead stung instantly on impact.

I gazed up on hearing the poltergeist wail. Dad had finally set the photograph alight, destroying the last trace of DNA and memory of Bernard Kazinski. The spirit went up in flames with one final roar of outrage.

My Dad and brother immediately rushed to my side. I lifted my head and let out a groan.

"I just got my ass kicked, by a freakin' ghost!" I grumbled, before adding sarcastically. "I'm fabulous."

Blood was trickling down my forehead, since I completely face planted the bedside table.

"Let me see that" said Dad, taking my face in his hands as he inspected the damage. "Well, you're gonna need stitches, but it shouldn't leave a scar. You did good, baby. I'm proud of you."

Huh? Me getting tossed around like a Frisbee was good? Really?! Then again, I did distract the ghost for a period of time, while my Dad and brother were trying to destroy it. So in a pretty messed up way, I did help to a certain degree.

As Dad stitched me up, I couldn't stop thinking about one thing. I had just completed my first hunt. I was now on the pathway to becoming a badass.

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**Thanks again to kissacazador for her huge help with this part of the Chris story.**

**Also, sorry for the delay with updates. I've started college again and I'm juggling alot at the moment. But, I'm faithful to the stories and to the characters, and to the readers of course. I will try my best to update as regular as I can.**

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	38. Dean VS The Ultimate Fatty Patty

My brother eats like a barnyard animal. The way he eats things make me wanna be sick. It's like his bottomless stomach has no limits, and he would often push it to the extreme. Today was no different.

Dad was out investigating a potential case, which left me in the company and care of Dean. It was then decided by Dean that we go out for lunch while Dad was busy. I'm one to talk, as I can be greedy too, but I know my boundaries when it comes to eating.

"Just pick something already," I whined, slamming my menu down onto the table. "I'm getting older just waiting on you."

The diner was pretty quiet, regardless of it being 1pm in the afternoon. We sat in the corner booth, near the restrooms, a fact which might come in handy in case my brother wanted to hurl. If Chisel Chest continues with his gluttonous ways, then his insides are gonna turn into bacon grease and lard.

"Put a sock in that pie hole," remarked Dean, still skimming through the menu with his eyes. "Or else your gonna be payin' for the meal."

With a heavy sigh and a roll of the eyes, I lounged back in my seat. I then gave a small tug on the tongue of my baseball cap. The tongue of the cap created a slight shadow across the upper part of my face.

"What are you wanting then?" asked my brother. When I gave him an innocent look as if to say _'you told me to put a sock in it'_, he rolled his eyes. He then said. "Take the sock out. I'll ask again, what are you wanting?"

I knew my order would be big, and I was waiting for my brother to tease me because of it. Since I'm small, people underestimated my abilities and skills. They all think that I'm this weak little kid, whilst my family have often described me as a spunky firecracker with a Donald Duck like temper.

"I'm gonna get the double bacon cheeseburger, with fries and mozzarella sticks, plus a large coke," I replied with a smirk. "Then maybe the apple pie with vanilla ice-cream. If I'm able to make room for pie."

Dean peered over his menu and narrowed his eyes at me. I stuck my tongue out at him in a playful way.

"You don't make room for pie, then you're a dishonor to the family name," he stated with a very cocky expression, before adding humorously. "And you'll be grounded for a whole month, for shaming me."

I scoffed and twisted my baseball cap, making the tongue face backwards. This was common banter between us, it often lead to us challenging each other. Mostly it involved food and pranks.

One time, I challenged him to eat a large spoonful of flour. Oh, the mess and noises that made. Let's just say he got me back on that, by making me stuff as many marshmallows into my mouth, without choking and spitting them out. Yuck!

"What are you having then?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes back at him. "I bet it'll make grease pour outta your skin. You'll end up looking like a strip of bacon."

My brother sniggered, giving me a harmless kick under the table, which made my shin bone shudder slightly. I'll get him back for that later.

"Oh, really? Then that means I'll be the best looking strip of bacon in town," smirked Dean, waggling his eyebrows. "All the ladies will just wanna eat me."

Once again, I rolled my eyes and scoffed at my older brother. Dean then pointed at the menu, highlighting his selection. The meal was correctly named: "_The Ultimate Fatty Patty and Fries._"

The description made it sound more monstrous. It was a eight patty burger; with eight slices of both American and Cheddar cheese; with five bacon strips and a few slithers of lettuce and tomato. There was also a heap of garlic lattice fries on the side.

"Ha! Yeah, whatever," I cackled, giving him back the menu. "You'll never eat all that. No way. Unless your asking to be sitting on the toilet all day."

Dean grinned at me, raising his eyebrows up and down like a absolute moron.

"My awesome chiseled stomach is able to handle anything. Just you watch, kiddo," he said. "I'll have room for pie too."

I have to say, as cruel as it sounds, it was both funny and painful to watch him eat that monstrous bacon cheeseburger. I had finished my meal long before my big brother, and I was simply watched him as I slurped my coke through a straw. My brother was now struggling.

"Having a little blockage in that garbage disposal stomach?" I teased with a devilish smirk. "For the record, you really don't wanna miss out on this apple pie. It's the best."

My brother glared at me, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster. His nostrils flared as he swallowed loudly. From what I could see, I knew his jaw was locking due to the pressure of chewing.

"I'm finishing this," stated Dean, his mouth still full of undigested food. He then added. "I'll prove it to you."

I grimaced as I sat forward, resting my elbows on the table. This was gonna end badly, and it didn't need a genius to figure it out.

"Dude, c'mon!" I remarked. "You're gonna made yourself sick. Then you'll be so bloated and fat, that a hungry family of cannibals could eat you for Thanksgiving."

Dean narrowed his eyes at me and continued eating. I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him once again.

"Okay, but I swear, that if you throw up on me, I'm gonna wring your neck," I commented with a sour expression. Then my face twisted in disgust when my brother burped. "Ewww! What the hell were you in a past life? You eat like a cow! It's disgusting!"

Afterwards, my complaining didn't let up as we headed back to the motel on foot. Dean's face quickly turned a shade of green, his full stomach gurgled angrily.

"Shut up Chris!" he snapped. "You sound like a broken record. I'm a grown man, I can handle…..oh God!"

Suddenly, Dean launched himself behind a smelly dumpster in order to projectile vomit. I leaned casually against the dumpster, my arms folded as I shook my head.

"Aw Christ! My stomach!" groaned Dean between heavy breathes. He then was sick all over again. "Chris…Chris…help me."

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I sighed heavily. The smell of the dumpster and my brother's sick was horrible, but I ignored it. If I didn't ignore the smell, then I would be throwing up too.

"See. I told you so," I muttered under my breath. My brother continued to hurl. I rolled my eyes. "This is gonna be a long day."

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**Sorry for the late update, I've been busy with my social care studies at college.**

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	39. Operation Cuckoo

**Just a quick comedy chapter. Just popped into my head about an hour ago.**

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I was bored. My brother and I had been on the road for over six hours now, as we were meeting Dad somewhere in Nevada. My eyes were tired at observing the landscape that was zooming by, and I couldn't be bothered drawing in my sketch pad anymore. Since the journey began, I had already created various comic book cartoons of SpongeBob and Patrick, having various cool adventures. Come to think of it, I needed a new sketch pad. Maybe I could buy one on the next stop at a gas station, and also a handful of Pokemon cards.

Sighing heavily, I leaned back into the front passenger car seat. There was an awkward silence, as the car radio wasn't on. I had fallen asleep about an hour previous, and my brother wanted to give me peace. I gazed up at him from a side way view. My fingers twirled the tongue of my baseball cap, until it was facing backwards. A large smirk was spreading across my face. Time for mischief.

"Once you're in Heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you died in for eternity?" I asked randomly. "Wait, what if you were butt naked when you died? Man, that would be awkward."

Dean's eyebrows arched in confusion as he glanced down at me. Stage one of _Operation Cuckoo _accomplished, get the target's attention.

"Huh?" he responded, his eyebrows still arched comically. "Where the hell did that come from?"

I smiled sweetly at him, like butter wouldn't melt. My finger twirled a strand of my wavy hair.

"No reason," I replied. "Just curious."

Now, onto the next stage of _Operation Cuckoo_, keep getting the target's attention.

"Can animals commit suicide?" I questioned with a frown, my expression dead pan and serious. "Think about it, if a lion gets kicked out of it's pride, then do you think it could leap into a lake of crocodiles out of depression?"

Dean took a deep breathe, his own expression filled once again with bemusement. This was my plan, to make him feel extremely awkward. Then I would wind him up so bad, that a cuckoo bird would erupt out of his forehead. Hence the name, _Operation Cuckoo_.

"Again, what the hell?" remarked Dean, looking uncomfortable with my curious and disturbed question. He shook his head at me. "You are one morbid little girl."

I smirked as my brother returned his attention on the road. What could I ask him next?

"Hey Dean?" I probed, watching my brother cringe with annoyance. "Dean?"

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel, his expression conveyed frustration at the thought of another random question.

"What now!?" snapped Dean.

Brilliant! This was all going according to plan, then again I usually regret this game in the end. It always ends with me in a sulk. Still, it's worth it as it's hilarious.

"Why does the Easter bunny carry eggs?" I asked, looking extremely curious and innocent. "Rabbits don't lay eggs."

Dean growled with irritation, almost hitting his head on the dashboard. I tried not to laugh.

"Check the internet!" replied Dean. "You'll find your answer for all your dumb questions there. Now, enough! So help me, I will leave you on the side of the road and let buzzards get you."

I faked a pout, whilst folding my arms. When he wasn't looking, my devilish smirk returned. The vein on my brother's right temple was throbbing.

"Hey Dean?" I pestered, and when my brother refused to reply, I simply continued. "Dean? Dean? Hey Dean? Dean? Dean? Dean?"

My brother's face was now turning purple with repressed rage and mania.

"WHAT?!" yelled Dean, his knuckles cracking as he gripped onto the steering wheel with all his might.

I then burst into hysterical laughter, almost sounding like the Joker from Batman. Overwhelmed with frustration, I could tell Dean was minutes away from throwing me out the car window. Still, the threat of being eaten alive by a gang of buzzards and the expression on my brother's face, cured my boredom.

_Operation Cuckoo _accomplished.

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	40. Stars

**Hey guys, so sorry for being a stranger on this, I know it's been a long time since my last update. I will explain at the bottom, after this chapter. Enjoy the new update.**

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I was getting into the swing of my hunter training. Sure, it had it's regular ups and downs, but doesn't every job? Nevertheless, I was enjoying all the new adventures I was experiencing, even though I was only currently allowed to attend gigs involving spirits. I had a feeling that my time to confront some ugly ass monsters would be soon, after a couple more training sessions. In all honesty, I was surprised that I was being trained this early, I mean, my family still mollycoddles me, as if I'm still a little kid. My guessing, was it was down to Sam's absence, and that resulted my protégé status. Due to Sam being in college, that meant that we were one hunter short, plus babysitter.

My brother and I were finishing up a salt and burn, due to our latest case involving some old lady ghost who had a vendetta on her neighbours. Dean was digging up the coffin, whilst I sat on the edge of now open grave, looking down into the exposed earth and bugs. If I fell down that grave, I knew I would struggle to get out again. I hate being such a short ass, I'm eleven years old, and I'm 4ft 10 inches. Hell, I better reach a very rapid growth spurt sometime soon.

"Sam says he's heading to Santa Monica with his new college friends this weekend," I said, my legs dangling over the edge of the grave. "We talked on the phone for about an hour this morning. You were out. He asked after you, wanting to know how you are. Why aren't you talking to him? Is it because of Dad?"

My brother halted digging, and sighed heavily. He gazed up at me, his face covered in sweat and dirt.

"Look, these past couple of months have been very complicated. Since Sam went to Stanford, all responsibility regarding you, has been placed on me," said Dean, gently leaning against his shovel. "Before, it was easier, because the responsibility was shared and manageable. Now, with Dad away half of the time, I have to do everything. Believe me, I want to speak to him, but I have no time. Besides, Sam probably thinks I'm a dick and doesn't want to speak to me anyway."

I cocked my head to the side in a thoughtful and innocent manner, which was followed by a slight twitch of my nose.

"Well, he does think you can be an asshole sometimes, but you're his brother," I replied. "You know as well as I do, that Sam would take a bullet to the head for you. Make time, and talk to him. This whole silence and void of separation, it's killing us all."

My brothers have been very frosty with each other for several weeks now, ever since Sam discovered that I was going along on hunts. He found it irresponsible of Dad and Dean, and an argument erupted via telephone lines. Harsh words were exchanged, almost reminiscent of the night Sam left for college.

No wonder I have all this rage repressed inside me, it's because I have been raised within a very strict, patriarchal and anger filled environment. More evidence of this has come into light recently, as I'm starting to swear more. I got a lot of disgusted looks from people yesterday, when I knocked over a large can display in a grocery store, which almost crushed me, causing me to unleash a flurry of four lettered words. It's not every day you hear an eleven year old cuss like a sailor.

Dean cleared his throat, yet didn't respond to my statement. Typical of the stubborn ass to bottle everything up. That's another trait I've picked up along the way. Ah, never mind, in my next life, I can always come back as the mild mannered daughter of a boring rich family in upstate New York, and living with three ponies and an tortoise called Alan. I might have gained some etiquette and manners at that point. Still, with the road I'm travelling down, I'm gonna come back as a toilet brush in a public restroom. That would be my luck.

After the salt and burn was completed, my brother and I hit the road once again. An hour or two after beginning the drive, my brother pulled into an empty field. The sky was pitch black, and decorated with millions of tiny sparkling stars. A calm silence settled, with only the odd sound of nearby crickets.

My brother parked himself on the hood of the car, and began to take the occasional sip from his beer bottle. Normally I would whine about the dangers of drinking behind the wheel, and what if situation if he got pulled over and arrested by the authorities. Yet, with the somewhat peacefulness I decided against my lecture.

I joined him on the hood, and removed my baseball cap from my head. My crazy brown waves sprung to life, as they were granted freedom from the baseball cap. Strange as it sounds, well near enough crazy by my standards, but I always seem to hear very faint whispers of distant and mysterious voices whenever I gaze at the sky. I mentioned it to Sam once, but he dismissed it as my over active imagination.

As my brother and I star gazed, a shooting star darted across the sky in a very clichéd manner.

"You once told me when I was little, that a shooting star is a soul going to Heaven, and that a falling star signals the birth of a new soul. Makes you wonder if it's true," I said, my eyes briefly drifting towards my silent brother. "I've always wanted to know, who told you that?"

A soft sigh escaped my brother's mouth, as he lowered his beer bottle from his lips.

"Mom told me that," replied Dean quietly. "She used to say to Sam and I when we were little kids, that every single star in the night sky is a human soul. Whenever someone dies, a new star is created once the soul reaches Heaven. Mom always had a way of explaining things, even if it didn't make any sense. Sam used to love her stories. Nobody told him anymore stories after Mom died."

I shuffled closer to my brother, sensing his sombre mood. My head rested against his shoulder, and I let out a sigh. It's getting ridiculous, all this silent treatment between everybody, and I know sooner or later it's just gonna reach the point of no return. I can't stand the idea of my family becoming that estranged, it would break my heart.

Not every family is perfect, because mine sure as hell isn't. Still, for things to work within a family unit, communication, respect, understanding and loyalty are all key elements. I just wished my family was able to apply all these factors, but like I said, things aren't so simple when it comes to my father and brothers.

As I gazed back up at the sky, I recalled a moment I shared with Sam about three years ago.

"_You remember Dean and I telling you about the stars?" asked a sixteen year old Sam, to which I nodded in reply. "I saw several shooting stars just there. Do you remember what that means?"_

_Sam and I were both huddled at the small motel window, gazing at the night sky. At eight years old I was very inquisitive, and without the knowledge of the paranormal and supernatural. I adored the interesting and funny conversations I had with Sam, since he would openly volunteer to baby sit me. At the time I never understood why, as I thought he was missing out on stuff involving Dad and Dean. However, he was try to avoid the upcoming responsibilities as a hunter, which was a life he never wanted. Since I was still in the dark about things, I never knew this fact until several years later._

"_The shooting stars means somebody has died, and their soul is going up to Heaven beside Mom," I responded. "Every pure soul becomes a star you told me, and if your evil and bad then you don't get a star, or get to go to Heaven."_

_Sam chuckled, and gently squeezed my shoulder in an act of comfort. A sad smile tugged on the corners of his lips._

"_Let me tell you something that Mom told me," he began, before returning his gaze to the dark night sky, in which I did the same. "Look at the stars. Every soul who has become a star looks down on us, and offers us guidance. Mom is up there, and she is always watching out for us. If you ever feel sad, alone or lost, then just look to the stars. Mom and the Angels will always guide you in the right direction. Whatever happens in our lives, I want you to remember that."_

_My childish, and curiosity filled eyes met with the sorrow filled eyes of my big brother. At that moment, I didn't feel so alone in the universe anymore._

As I continued to gaze at the night sky, I could just imagine Sam doing the very same thing, far away in California. Once exhaustion began to sink into my bones, my eyes began to grow heavy with each effort filled blink. During the moments when Dean was guiding me back inside the car, I heard very faint whispers coming from thin air. I couldn't make out what the voices were saying, as it just sounded like gibberish to me. Nevertheless, I just came to the conclusion that I was creating imaginary thoughts and sounds due to sleep deprivation. It wouldn't be the first time either. Still, I could've have sworn I saw a man wearing some sort of long coat, whilst blinking. Again, I was exhausted after a very long and tiring day.

Just before I managed to fall asleep, I could hear the beeping of buttons. I cuddled under the blanket that Dean had wrapped me in, and gave a small stretch as I lay curled in the back seat of the car. Before my eyes finally closed, I heard the dialling tone on my brother's cell phone. There was a tiny crackle and then a soft click.

"Sammy, it's Dean," mumbled my eldest brother. "We need to talk."

* * *

**I really do apologise for my absence, it's just that I've been under a lot of stress with college, of which I'm hating to the point it's making me feel kinda down and depressed. With the amount of college work that is being thrown at me from all angles, I have had no time in updating within the past couple of months. **

**Writer's block is affecting the progress of the Chris main series, but that will be updated soon, hopefully, as I want to move on with that part of Chris's story.**

**I will make more time for you lovely readers and reviewers, as I can afford to let good story ideas to go to waste. **

**Hope you enjoyed the long awaited chapter.**

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	41. The Christmas of 2002 PART 1

Holy cripes! I could hardly believe it was December already, and only two weeks until Christmas. Then again, Christmas wasn't something I really celebrated, well, that's due to my family's lifestyle choices. In case your slow on the update, that mostly involves hunting, arguments, trips to the trauma room, and alcohol.

"Hey kiddo, how was school?" asked Dean, as he collected me from the school gates.

The snow and ice was crisp and clean, yet freezing cold. My old boots weren't giving me much protection from the winter elements, but that didn't matter to me. I was in a bad mood, but that's hardly a surprise these days.

"The casting list was announced for the Christmas pageant," I said, as I climbed into the front passenger seat of my brother's car. "Mrs Bailey double crossed me. She told me, that if I was on good behaviour, and to get at least a B on the test of state capitals; then she would consider giving the role of the Angel Gabriel to me. And, I did everything she told me, but did I get the role? No!"

Dean looked down at me, his eyes sympathetic and fully of pity.

"That hag lied her fat ass off! She gave the part to Isabella Marie Duncan!" I added, as I was becoming more frustrated and upset with the situation. "That's so not fair! She calls me names all the time, and in front of everyone! I've been cast as the stupid donkey! I wish I never auditioned in the first place! I knew I would end up making a moron outta myself!"

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Dean sighed, and patted my hand gently. Furiously, I ripped off my maroon colored bobble hat, which always replaced my baseball cap in winter time.

"Oh, Chrissie, don't let it get you down," comforted my brother. "You're still my angel."

I scoffed, and rolled my eyes, before folding my arms. Suddenly, I could sense a presence in the back seat of the car. I then saw a figure in the rear view mirror, however it remained invisible to Dean. A man, of medium height and wearing a Santa hat, was sitting behind me. It was one of my imaginary friends. I refer to him as Lolly, a name given to him when I was little, because he always has a lollypop in his mouth. Seems silly really. I'm eleven, and I still have imaginary friends.

"Nativity pageants are _so _boring," whined Lolly. "Jeez, It's always the same, the prettiest little kids gets to be Mary, and the Angel Gabriel. It's weird, to see yourself being played by a blonde fifth grader, especially if they speak with a lisp. This one time, I was played by a fat kid, but that was back in 1962, and diets weren't in fashion at the time. My personality is awesome, and you, kiddo, nailed it. To heck with that Isabella. I can make her fall down the stairs, by _accident _of course. That way, you can be upgraded to the starring role."

I rolled my eyes once again. My main concern, was that Dad would never turn up to see me in the show. What does it matter now, he won't be proud of me. Relegated to the role of donkey! Bah Humbug!

* * *

**Should Chris get the starring role? And guess who the cameo was?**

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	42. The Christmas of 2002 PART 2

"I'm a donkey, Sam!" I said, as I talked down the phone line to my absent brother. "Rehearsals are horrible. All the kids laugh at me, and make donkey noises."

My costume itself is a joke. It doesn't even fit me properly. It is basically a oversized, grey, furry, sleeping suit with a hood, that has sticky up ears attached to it. I also have to wear black mittens, and black socks. I look absolutely hideous. Everybody is gonna laugh at me. Even my own family. Though, no doubt, it will only be Dean that will appear on the night of the show. I understand that Sam won't make it, but I just hope that my Dad can make it, even if I'm a laughing stock.

"_Don't take it to heart, Chris_," replied Sam. "_I played a sheep when I was in first grade. I got so nervous, that I wet myself on stage. I bet Dean has already told you that story_."

I giggled slightly, as I wiggled my toes. I was sitting, cross legged on my bed, dressed in my pyjamas. Sam let out a small sigh.

"_I'm so sorry that I can't come and see you_," he added. "_Promise me to take lots of pictures, so that you can send them to me_."

A sad smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"I promise" I replied.

Later, Dean was tucking me into bed. Even though I'm eleven, he still acts like I'm a little girl.

"Dad will make the show, right?" I asked, my eyes full of desperation and hope.

Dean sat down on the bed beside me, before letting out a weary sigh. I noticed several beer bottles on his night stand. He's been having restless nights again.

"I can't promise you that, sweetheart," replied my brother. "You know what Dad is like. I just hope that he does, for your sake. Still, I'll be there to cheer you on."

A tear slipped down my cheek. My brother quickly wiped it away with his thumb, as he smiled down at me, a strong sense of sadness in his eyes.

"All I'm saying is, don't set your heart on him being there, because you know how much he has let you down in the past," added Dean. "Just remember that he loves you, and would do anything to protect you. Dad means well, just in his own way."

Nevertheless, that night, I tried my best not to cry myself to sleep.

Rehearsals continued, to which my humiliation seemed unending. I sat beside the make shift manger, crossed legged and hunched over, with folded arms. Isabella and her posse surrounded me. Tammy flicked at one of my ears.

"Well, girls, they picked the perfect person to play the donkey, don't you think?" said Isabella, wearing her perfect costume. "You look like you life in a barn. Where do you get your clothes from anyway? Cheap thrift stores? Trash cans? Face it, Winchester, you're nothing but a pathetic runt."

Her posse laughed at me, whilst poking and nipping me. At that point, I would've kicked their asses clean off the stage, but I managed to contain my anger. I hurried off stage, my eyes blurry with tears.

Suddenly, there was an almighty crash, followed by ugly crying. I rushed back onto the stage, along with several other class members. Isabella had fallen down the stairs leading from the stage, her tinsel halo was now all wonky, and her blonde curly hair, all messy. Apparently, she had been walking down the stairs with her posse, when something caused her to trip and fall.

I quickly gazed into the auditorium, and noticed Lolly sniggering. He was sitting casually in one of the seats, completely invisible to everybody else. A candy cane was sticking behind his ear. He was also still wearing a Santa hat, with a matching hideous Christmas sweater.

"Hey, note to the casting director out there, pick a kid who isn't a little bitch," he called out, taking the odd lick from the candy cane. "Totally makes me look bad. Honestly, what's the deal with that, anyway? I'm a nice, reasonable guy. Also, who the heck wrote the script? The script for _Battlefield Earth _is better than this crap! Seriously, why do I come to these things? I only end up being either bored or offended."

I was dumbfounded by the current events, whilst trying to ignore Lolly's ongoing rant about the pageant. Turns out, Isabella had badly twisted her ankle, and would be unable to continue with the role of the archangel Gabriel. Rehearsals were dismissed earlier than usual, but Mrs Bailey stopped me, as I turned to leave.

"Christina, can you do a big favor for me," she said. "Would it be possible for you to take over Isabella's role, as the archangel Gabriel. I trust that you know the script, and _Silent Night _off by heart. The show is tomorrow night, after all. Please, can you do this favor for me."

Even though I had been humiliated by the role of the donkey, I couldn't refuse a promotion towards archangel. A smile soon spread across my face. Lolly winked at me, which confirmed that he was behind Isabella's accident.

I decided at that moment, not to tell Dean about my promotion, and would leave it as a surprise. I know in his eyes, it would be counted as a Christmas present.

I was a bag of nerves by the next night. As I slipped into my new costume, which was a white smock dress, with a tinsel halo, and fake angel wings; I could only imagine the look on my big brother's face. I wanted to make him proud.

My prediction was right, for once I appeared on the stage, my brother's face lit up like a candle, and the grin on his face, made me feel all happy inside. I never thought he would have been sitting in the front row. All the mothers and older sisters gawping at him in awe.

My cheeks then flushed red, as I sang _Silent Night_, and I knew that Dean would tease me about it later. I still wished all my family was in the audience. Sam would have been so proud of me. Still, I was on cloud nine, due to the sense of pride, and achievement that I was feeling within me.

I blushed once again, during the curtain call, as Dean stood up, and cheered very loudly. The other families raised their eyebrows at him, in a slight disapproving manner.

"What? That's my little sister up there" he said, shrugging off their looks with his usual bravado.

I couldn't stop smiling. Little did I know, that Dad had been sitting up the back of the auditorium all this time. When he stood up, I recognised him straight away. Suddenly, I leapt off the stage, and raced towards my father's open arms. As Dad spun me around in his arms, I felt like I was really flying.

* * *

**Merry Christmas guys!**

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	43. Alone With A Tin of Cowboy Food

Man, I hate homework. Seriously, Mrs Wallis expects me to study _'Lord of the Flies'_, when I have my own studies to attend to. My Dad is making me read this old dusty book about European Folklore. To be honest, I'm having more fun reading the folklore book. If Sam was reading _'Lord of the Flies'_ to me, then I would be more interested. I'll I know about that story, is it's about a group of school kids would get stranded on a desert island, and one half of the group goes completely crackers. I used to love story telling from Sam, since he has a way with words. Our favourite book overall, has to be _'To Kill A Mockingbird.' _

Sam's ideal father is obviously Atticus Finch, and I don't blame him. Atticus Finch is an intelligent humanitarian, who doesn't sugar coat things for his children. Compare him to my own Dad, who is a brash functioning alcoholic, who still treats me like a little kid, who can't tie their own shoe laces.

"_Are you alone, Chris?" _asked Sam curiously, from the other end of the phone line. _"Where is Dad and Dean? Are you alright?"_

I rolled my eyes, as I lounged on the small couch, with my sock clad feet propped up on the arm of the couch. Dad and Dean left the motel around 1 hour ago, believing that my focus would remain on my English homework. To hell with that, I thought. Bored, I decided to call Sam, just for a normal conversation for once. I really miss him.

"I'm fine, Sam," I sighed in reply, as I fiddled with the hole in my right sock. "How are things at Stanford?"

After a brief download on all things California, Sam returned to his original question, on whether I was alone in the motel or not.

"I'm holding the fort while Dad and Dean are out. They're in the desert at the moment, taking down a Catoblepas," I answered, truthfully. "Dad says its this large bull type creature from Ethiopia. How the hell it's in Las Vegas, I don't know. Either way, Dad wouldn't let me join in the hunt. Probably because the Catoblepas is venomous."

I could hear a grumble coming from the other end of the line. Sam clearly wasn't impressed that I was left alone, again, but deep down he knew it was for the best. He didn't want me to get hurt. Nobody in my family wanted that.

"_Just wanting to make sure you're safe, Chris," _said Sam. _"You know how much I worry about you."_

I sat up, and crossed my legs. Hearing Sam's voice made me miss him even more.

"_Anyway, Chris, I gotta go, I need to finish this assignment I need to hand in the morning" _added my brother, with hints of sadness in his voice.

I sighed once again, my eyes becoming misty with developing tears, yet I refused to cry. I didn't want Sam to hear me cry.

"Bye, Sammy" I mumbled.

Another sigh came from my brother's end of the line. It hurt him to say goodbye, just as much as it hurt me.

"_Bye, sweetie, look after yourself," _replied Sam. _"I'll call you soon."_

Later that evening, I was starting to get hungry. Dad had forgotten to leave me money, in case I wanted to order take out. Also, regardless to how thorough I checked, the refrigerator; freezer and cupboards, all were bare empty. Apart from a tin of baked beans that it. I emptied the tin into a small pot, and began to heat them on the grimy gas stove.

Whilst humming to myself, my mind began to wander, therefore my attention to the stove was neglected. Only when the palm of my right hand received a small, yet sharp burn, did my attention return to the stove.

"Sonofabitch!" I cursed, as I ran my hand under the cold tap. "Screw the cowboy food! What am I? John Wayne? Dammit Dad, you'd said Dean stocked the cupboards this morning! Bullshit! What am I supposed to do now? Call UNICEF, and tell them I'm a starving, needy kid?"

My eyebrows furrowed into my infamous scowl, as I glared at my bright pink palm. I gazed up the motel room. It was the worse room yet, but after Dad lost a poker game, it was all he could afford at the time. Besides, according to him, we were only gonna be here for four days tops, and yet here we are, three weeks later.

That night, I wriggled into my Pokemon night dress. I held my jeans in front of me. After three years, it was safe to say that I needed a new pair of jeans. Would be sad, but they had served me well. Kids at school teased me about my oversized, and old clothes. I've even developed a new nickname; besides 'Birdbrain', because I daydream a lot; 'Scrappy Doo' , because I fight in the playground during recess; and 'Runt', because I'm small and skinny. Now, I get called 'Hand-Me-Down', because of how I dress. Would need to speak to Dad about the jeans, and he would probably make me keep them for another couple of months to another year. Money was always an issue.

I stood at the motel window, and simply stared out into the dark empty parking lot, waiting for my eldest brother and Dad to return. I hoped that they were alright. I didn't want any nasty surprises, like emergency trips to the trauma room, or having to prepare bandages from the first aid kit.

Even though I'm eleven, I still don't like being alone, especially when it starts to get dark. With the knowledge that I carry around in my brain, I know what lurks in the shadows. What the Grimm's brothers wrote in their books was clearly reality, instead of childish fiction. Meaning, there was big bad wolves out there, ready to attack. There was witches out there, searching for and devouring children like me. Everything that lurked in the darkness was real, and I was alone until my family returned to me.

After an hour of waiting, I climbed into bed, whilst holding onto a silver hunting knife, which had long replaced my old teddy bear Goober. I eventually drifted to sleep, once singing _'Hey Jude' _to myself, in order to calm my nerves.

In the early morning, after over eight hours my family returned, as I could hear their hushed voices, as they entered the motel room. My brother carefully sat down on my bed, and gently stroked my scruffy brown hair. It was his way of saying that he had returned safely, without having to speak or wake me up.


	44. Hello Little Girl PROLOGUE

_A lone male sat within a large scarlet red puddle. A mutilated corpse slumped next to the young male, the deceased being's head resting on it's murderer's lap. Blood soaked onto the clothes and skin of the male, as he gripped onto a bronze coloured chalice, which was full to the brim of crimson fluid._

_Moonlight beamed of the male's back, as it glimmered off his dark skin. The male whispered an odd incantation, whilst he continued to hold onto the chalice. He blinked to reveal his black eyes. The possessed male nodded as the chalice of blood spoke to him in a demonic language._

"_I will make sure the plan will go ahead smoothly this time, without any hiccups. Yes, I'm aware the previous encounters deemed unsuccessful, but this time, failure is not an option" he said._

_The male nodded once again, as the chalice replied back in an angry sounding tone._

"_I completely understand it won't be that simple, because I was at the boathouse, remember. I was the only one to escape the carnage that befell us all," answered the demon. "I know what is at state, and the price we will all pay if this goes wrong. I will make sure Azazel's plan will go ahead, once his chosen ones are of age. I know the problem has to be removed for this plan to remain untreated. I will eliminate the target, and this time I will not fail, not like the previous time."_

_The chalice continued to gurgle and roar, to which the demon simply nodded calmly. An image appeared in the blood filled chalice. The 11 year old Chris Winchester materialized within the bloody substance._

"_The child must die. The child will die" repeated the demon, in a monotone voice, his eyes remaining black. _

* * *

**A/N: And so starts the new story arc, a demon who managed to escape the wrath of Dean and John during Chris's kidnapping, but this demon still has a deadly job to carry out. How will this demon carry out his assassination plan?**

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	45. Hello Little Girl PART 1

Hand-made birthday cards seem to be my forte over the past few years. Dean's 24th birthday is only a week away, and I want to make it special for him. I'm not sure how, but I'll think of something. I know Dean will be grateful whatever the result is.

I carefully place the birthday card into my bag, as the school bell rings, signally the end of the school day. With my scarf wrapped around my neck, I made my way out of the main building, and headed towards the parking lot. However, I didn't see Dean or the Impala. I wrinkled my nose, and blew into my glove cladded hands.

"Dammit" I muttered, as I wandered back over to the front entrance.

It was snowing again, and had been doing so for the past hour. Mrs McKinney had resorted in shutting the blinds, as she stated that the snow was a distraction and we had to return our focus on the science lesson.

I plonked myself onto the stairs, as I waited for my brother, whilst drawing patterns in the snow with a pencil from my bag. It wasn't like Dean to be late in picking me up from school. That was more Dad's thing. Still, the weather was probably holding him back, or maybe a delay in traffic. I muttered to myself, as I was growing impatient. It was now three thirty. I briefly gazed up, and noticed a man standing across the street, just staring at me. Bored and cold, I wandered around the school building and ventured into the playground. What was that man's problem? Just standing there? In this weather, jeez he must be crazy.

My old boots were leaving imprints in the snow, whilst also making a crisp crunching noise. I tugged at my maroon bobble hat, making sure my now pink ears were covered. I smirked as I made my way to the monkey bars. Years ago, on starting Kindergarten, I made sure that any monkey bars I came across, would be established as my domain, and that no other kids would dare cross me. Sure, I got into fights and conflicts over this declaration. Yeah, it didn't always work, but I made sure I left my mark on this school. Last week I got in trouble for kicking one of the boys in my class in the privates, but he had it coming. He kept bullying a group of smaller kids, and stopping them from using the monkey bars. I wouldn't stop little kids from using the monkey bars. I'm no bully. I'm a defender of the people, so to speak.

I dropped my bag, and climbed onto the monkey bars.

"Don't fall," came a familiar gruff voice. "It's not wise to play on this piece of recreational equipment. The weather is most unsuitable. I don't want you getting hurt."

I rolled my eyes, as I then swung upside down, with my hands on my hips.

"Cas, you worry too much," I remarked with a smirk, confronting the trench coated figure that stood in the middle of the monkey bars. I was eye level with him. "I've done this a million times. I only landed on my head once, and that was years ago."

Cas frowned in concern, as he held in arms out, in case I fell. The cold weather made his blue eyes stand out even more. I giggled as I swung upside down, watching his attempts to catch me.

"Bet you can't do this, Cas," I said. "It was a brother of yours that showed me how to do this."

Cas frowned again.

"Which one?" he asked.

I shrugged, my scarf dangling.

"He never gave me a name" I replied. "I've known him as long as I've known you. I called him Lolly. He doesn't stay around for long, it's like he's hiding."

Cas looked bemused, but there was a glimmer of nervousness in his eyes and body language. I giggled at him, when suddenly I let out a gasp. The stranger from before was standing behind the chain link fence, staring at me, in a very leering and dark manner. Startled, I let out a small squeal and slipped on the bars, only to be caught in Cas's waiting arms.

"Hello, little girl" sneered the strange man. "Aren't you a pretty thing. Come over here."

I shot daggers at the stranger, and shook my head. The stranger then rattled the chain link fence briefly, before returning to his former position. Suddenly, I heard the blaring horn of the Impala. Dean was finally here. Thank God. Cas still held me in his arms, as he glared at the mysterious figure behind the chain link fence.

"Christina, run," uttered Cas, as he placed me onto the ground. "Go to your brother, now. Don't look back."

On his command, I hurried away from the playground, slinging my bag over my shoulders. Dean appeared at the playground entrance. He saw the strange man, but yet couldn't see Cas, who appeared to be invisible to him. Well, I've gotten used to the idea that Cas is a figment of my lonely imagination, so it makes sense that nobody else could see him.

Dean became very protective, as he knelt down to my level. He placed a hand on my shoulder, whilst the other cupped my face. He glared over in the direction of the mysterious figure, but the man had vanished.

"Chrissie? Are you alright?" he asked. "Who was that man? Did he say anything to you? Did he touch you?"

I shrugged my brother off, still nervous about what had just happened.

"I'm fine, Dean," I replied. "He was just standing there, watching me."

Dean cringed, as he began to usher me back to the Impala.

"Grown men who watch little girls like that are just sick," he said. "Remember what I told you, Chris, if any adult man…"

"Puts his hands on me in any way, I scream and give him hell," I remarked, finishing off my brother's statement. "I know, I know. And anyway, I'm not a little girl. I'm eleven, and I'm gonna be twelve in May."

Dean sighed, as he opened the front passenger door for me.

"Sorry to tell you, kiddo, but you're always gonna be a little girl to me" he said.

The journey back to the motel was slow, due to the snow and bad traffic. Whilst stuck in traffic, I glanced out of the car window, and at the snow covered street. My eyes widened, as I saw the same man from the school playground, sitting on a bench. As we made eye contact, he rose from the bench. He waved. My heart raced, and thudded against my rib cage, as his eyes flickered jet demonic black.

I couldn't hear him, but it was clear to me what he was saying.

"Hello, little girl."

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	46. Hello Little Girl PART 2

I paced up and down, biting my right thumb furiously, nearly drawing blood. My eyes fixed onto the grimy floor that I was walking on.

"You're gonna wear the carpet out," remarked Dean, as he cleaned his gun. "You sure nothing is bothering you? You pace when you're worried."

I paused, as I then inspected my aching thumb. Thankfully no blood was drawn this time. I then inspected the salt lines, making sure there wasn't a single fault.

"You'll freak if I tell you" I muttered, rubbing my hands together, since the motel room was freezing cold.

My brother stopped for a moment. He just knew something was wrong. Something bad. His whole expression changed from pure concentration, to deep concern. Dean signalled me over to him, and he perched me on his knee. He then waited patiently for me to spill the beans.

"I think I'm being followed" I said, playing with a loose thread of my dark grey sweater.

I could almost hear the cogs and wheels in my brother's head turning, as he tried to think of what to say next. I could almost hear the thudding of his racing heart.

"Followed?" he remarked. "By who?"

I bit my bottom lip, as I gazed up at Dean. I knew what his reaction was gonna be, there was no doubt at all.

"A demon," I murmured in reply. "That weird man in the school yard. He's a demon, I'm sure of it. I saw him again, standing on the street when we were caught in traffic. His eyes were black."

My brother's eyes widened with fear. He then got up, making sure that all of the salt lines were unbroken. Dean then returned to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He was shaking.

"Are you sure?" he asked, gazing deep into my eyes.

I nodded slowly, my eyes drifting towards the salt lines along the each of the windows. Suddenly, I let out a startled squeak, and pointed to the window by the motel room door. The demon was right outside, his forehead pressed against the window, his fingers clawing at the glass.

"Christ!" I yelped. "There he is! That's him!"

Dean pulled me behind him, in a protective manner, shielding me from possible harm or attack. He glared at the demon.

"What the hell do you want?!" he demanded.

The demon then stabbed a finger on the glass, aiming at me.

"The girl," it replied, it's voice inaudible due to the barrier that was the window. "Give me the girl. I'll get rid of her for you. It's for the best. It needs to be done."

I was shaking in fright. I tried to move, but Dean kept me behind him.

"Dean?" I whimpered, clutching onto his shirt. "What's going on? What does it want?"

Dean then knelt down to my level, turning his back on the demon. He told hold of my face in his hands. My eyes remained on the demon outside our room.

"Don't look at it, sweetheart," said Dean, looking onto my eyes. "Just focus on me, alright. Don't look at it. Everything is gonna be alright. You're safe with me. That bastard won't lay a single finger on you. Not while I'm here."

I was still very confused as to why this was happening in the first place. My hand then gently traced the scar that snaked from my right hip, to just under my navel. I gasped.

"Oh no," I grumbled. "Not again. Remember several months back, when demons snatched me. One of them got away. I think that's the one."

Dean let out a frustrated growl, and confronted the demon at the window.

"You're not getting you're filthy hands on her!" he shouted. "No! And I'm sure as hell, not letting you slither away again, you rancid son of a bitch! What's a little girl ever done to you?! Leave her alone!"

The demon cocked it's head. It then punched the window, breaking the glass slightly. Dean stood back.

"She must die" it hissed.

I gasped loudly.

"What?!" I exclaimed, my voice going squeaky.

The demon began to laugh, which pissed me and my brother off. Seriously though, what the hell was going on? Why do I need to be assassinated ? I haven't done anything. I think.

Dean then launched himself at the window, throwing salt from a silver tin at the demon. The salt grains made contact with the demon's hand, causing it to singe and burn. The demon yelped in pain and anger.

"If you touch her, scumbag, I swear I will rip you're fucking head off, and then stick it up you're god damn ass!" roared Dean, his face flushing purple.

My eyes went wide. Oh heck, that's one nasty image to have floating in your head. Could that even be possible? Ew! Why am I even thinking about that? Man, I spend too much time in my head. I really gotta stop that, before I get sent to therapy.

Dean then starting pacing up and down, his eyes shifting from the demon to me. He paused, the demon had suddenly vanished. Dean began to line a salt circle on the floor.

"Chrissie, listen to me very carefully," he said, returning to me. "I need you to barricade yourself in this room. You still have you're silver knife under your pillow?"

I nodded.

"Good girl," continued my brother. "Keep hold of your knife, and stay in this circle."

Dean then picked me up, and plonked me in the middle of the salt circle. He cupped my face in his hands again.

"I need the right exorcism book," he said. "The only problem, I left it in the truck of the Impala. I'll go down to the parking lot, and get it."

Frightened and concerned, I grabbed my brother's wrists.

"The demon is still out there!" I remarked. "There might be more!"

Dean smoothed my hair.

"If there is more, I'll handle them," he replied. "As long as they 're away from you, that's all that matters to me. Sweetheart, I don't want you to get hurt. That's why you must stay here in this circle. It'll keep you safe."

I then remembered something Dean told me on the way back from school.

"Dad's coming, you said so yourself," I said. "He's not that far away."

Dean nodded, yet stayed focused.

"That's true, but in the meantime, you need to stay here, while I go outside for the book," stated my big brother. "The sooner Dad arrives the better, but we need to hang tight until he does."

Dean handed me my knife. I then clutched at his shirt.

"It's dangerous out there, Dean," I whimpered. "The snow storm isn't helping either…"

Dean then interrupted me.

"I know it's dangerous," he said. "I know what I'm doing. Just stay here, in the circle, please. I'll be right back, I promise."

Dean then grabbed his coat, his eyes focused on the door. I received a peck on the forehead from him, before he ventured outside into the on-going snow storm.

"Be careful!" I begged, gripping onto my knife with both hands.

Then, I was alone. The demon was still outside, somewhere.

* * *

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